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2883 


EARLY    REVIEWS 


OF 


ENGLISH    POETS 


EDITED   WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION 
BY 

JOHN   LOUIS   HANKY,  Ph.D. 

Assistant  Professor  of  English  and  History,  Centra}  High  School,  PhiladeU 
phia;  Research  Felloiu  in  English,  University  of  Pennsylvania 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE    EGERTON    PRESS 

1904 


Copyright,  1904 
By  JOHN  LOUIS  HANEY 


ft 
c 


i  '.-ji 


Mess  or 
Tll  He*  Er*  PRtHTmc  COHPAii 

LAaCASTEl),  PK 


I    i  \ 
50-5 

M  i9e 


TO 

MY    FRIEND   AND    TEACHER 

PROFESSOR   FELIX   E.    SCHELLING 

OF   THE   UNIVERSITY    OF   PENNSYLVANIA 


A-ZI3^ 


PREFACE 

"  Among  the  amusing  and  instructive  books  that  remain 
to  be  written,  one  of  the  most  piquant  would  be  a  history 
of  the  criticism  with  which  the  most  celebrated  literary 
productions  have  been  greeted  on  their  first  appearance 
before  the  world."     It  is  quite  possible  that  when  Dr. 
William  Matthews  began  his  essay  on  Curiosities  of  Crit- 
icism with  these  words,  he  failed  to  grasp  the  full  signifi- 
cance of  that  future  undertaking.     Mr.  Churton  Collins 
f\   recently   declared   that   "  a  very   amusing   and   edifying 
r^  record  might  be  compiled  partly  out  of  a  selection  of  the 
';^  various  verdicts  passed  contemporaneously  by  reviews  on 
particular  works,  and  partly  out  of  comparisons  of  the  sub- 
sequent fortunes  of  works  with  their  fortunes  while  sub- 
^  mitted  to  this  censorship."     Both  critics  recognize  the  fact 
^  that  such  a  volume  would  be  entertaining  and  instructive ; 
but,  from  another  point  of  view,  it  would  also  be  a  some- 
what doleful  book.     Even  a  reader  of  meagre  imagination 
•j  and  rude  sensibilities  could  not  peruse  such  a  volume 
^  without  picturing  in  his  mind  the  anguish  and  the  heart- 
J^  ache  which  those  bitter  and  often  vicious  attacks  inflicted 
■^•upon  the  unfortunate  victims  whose  works  were  being 
assailed. 

Authors  (particularly  sensitive  poets)  have  been  at  all 
times  the  sport  and  plaything  of  the  critics.  Mrs.  Oli- 
phant,  in  her  Literary  History  of  England,  said  with  much 
truth :  "  There  are  few  things  so  amusing  as  to  read  a 
really  '  slashing  article ' — except  perhaps  to  write  it.  It 
is  infinitely  easier  and  gayer  work  than  a  well-weighed 
and  serious  criticism,  and  will  always  be  more  popular. 
The  Uvely  and  brilliant  examples  of  the  art  which  dwell 


viii  PREFACE 

in  the  mind  of  the  reader  are  invariably  of  this  class." 
Thus  it  happens  that  we  remember  the  witty  onslaughts 
of  the  reviewers,  and  often  ignore  the  fact  that  certain 
witticisms  drove  Byron,  for  example,  into  a  frenzy  of 
anger  that  called  forth  the  most  vigorous  satire  of  the  cen- 
tury; and  others  so  completely  unnerved  Shelley  that  he 
felt  tempted  to  write  no  more;  and  still  others  were  so 
unanimously  hostile  in  tone  that  Coleridge  thought  the 
whole  detested  tribe  of  critics  was  in  league  against  his 
literary  success.  There  were,  of  course,  such  admirable 
personalities  as  Wordsworth's — for  the  most  part  indif- 
ferent to  the  strongest  torrent  of  abuse ;  and  clever  crafts- 
men like  Tennyson,  who,  although  hurt,  read  the  criticisms 
and  profited  by  them  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  still 
well-informed  readers  who  believe  that  the  Quarterly  Re- 
view at  least  hastened  the  death  of  poor  Keats. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  such  a  volume  of  the  "  choice 
crudities  of  criticism  "  as  is  here  proposed  would  likewise 
fulfill  the  desirable  purpose  of  avenging  the  author  upon 
his  ancient  enemy,  the  critic,  by  showing  how  absurd  the 
latter's  utterances  often  are,  and  what  a  veritable  farrago 
of  folly  those  collected  utterances  can  make.  We  may 
rest  assured  that  however  much  hostile  criticism  may  have 
pained  an  author,  it  has  never  inflicted  a  permanent  in- 
jury upon  a  good  book.  If  there  appear  to  be  works  that 
have  been  thus  more  or  less  obscured,  the  fault  will  prob- 
ably be  found  not  in  the  critic  but  in  the  works  themselves. 
According  to  this  agreeable  theory,  which  we  would  all 
fain  believe,  the  triumph  of  the  ignorant  or  malevolent 
critic  cannot  endure ;  sooner  or  later  the  author's  merit 
will  be  recognized  and  he  will  come  into  his  own. 

The  present  volume  does  not  attempt  to  fulfill  the  con- 
ditions suggested  by  Dr.  Matthews  and  Mr.  Collins.  A 
history  of  contemporary  criticism  of  famous  authors  would 


PREFACE  « 

be  a  more  ambitious  undertaking,  necessitating  an  ex- 
tensive apparatus  of  notes  and  references.  It  seeks  merely 
to  gather  a  number  of  interesting  anomalies  of  criticism — 
reviews  of  famous  poems  and  famous  poets  differing  more 
or  less  from  the  modern  consensus  of  opinion  concerning 
those  poems  and  their  authors.  Although  most  of  the 
chosen  reviews  are  unfavorable,  several  others  have  been 
selected  to  afiford  evidence  of  an  early  appreciation  of  cer- 
tain poets.  A  few  unexpectedly  favorable  notices,  such 
as  the  Monthly  Review's  critique  of  Browning's  Sordello, 
are  printed  because  they  appear  to  be  unique.  The  chief 
criterion  in  selecting  these  reviews  (apart  from  the  effort 
to  represent  most  of  the  periodicals  and  the  principal  poets 
between  Gray  and  Browning)  has  been  that  of  interest 
to  the  modern  reader.  In  most  cases,  criticisms  of  a 
writer's  earlier  works  were  preferred  as  more  likely  to  be 
spontaneous  and  uninfluenced  by  his  growing  literary 
reputation.  Thus  the  volume  does  not  attempt  to  trace 
the  development  of  English  critical  methods,  nor  to  supply 
a  hand-book  of  representative  English  criticism ;  it  offers 
merely  a  selection  of  bygone  but  readable  reviews — what 
the  critics  thought,  or,  in  some  cases,  pretended  to  think, 
of  works  of  poets  whom  we  have  since  held  in  honorable 
esteem.  The  short  notices  and  the  well-known  longer  re- 
views are  printed  entire ;  but  considerations  of  space  and 
interest  necessitated  excisions  in  a  few  cases,  all  of  which 
are,  of  course,  properly  indicated.  The  spelling  and  punc- 
tuation of  the  original  texts  have  been  carefully  followed. 
The  history  of  English  critical  journals  has  not  yet  been 
adequately  written.  The  following  introduction  offers  a 
rapid  survey  of  the  subject,  compiled  principally  from 
the  sources  indicated  in  the  bibliographical  list.  I  am 
indebted  to  Professor  Felix  E.  Schelling  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  to  Dr.  Robert  Ellis  Thompson  and 


3C  PREFACE 

Professor  Albert  H.  Smyth  of  the  Philadelphia  Central 
High  School  for  many  suggestions  that  have  been  of 
value  in  wanting  the  introduction.  Dr.  Edward  Z.  Davis 
examined  at  my  request  certain  pamphlets  in  the  British 
Museum  that  threw  additional  light  upon  the  history  of 
the  early  reviews.  Dr.  A.  S.  W.  Rosenbach  and  Pro- 
fessor J.  H.  Moffatt  read  the  proofs  of  the  introduction 
and  notes  respectively,  and  suggested  several  noteworthy 
improvements. 

J.  L.H.    , 
Central  High  School, 
Philadelphia. 


CONTENTS 

Preface    vii 

Introduction xiii 

Bibliography Ivi 

REVIEWS 

Gray                Odes  (Monthly  Review) i 

Goldsmith      The  Traveller  (Critical  Review) 5 

CowPER             Poems,  iyS2 (Critical  Review) lo 

Burns              Poems,  1786  (Edinburgh  Magazine) 13 

Poems,  1786  (Critical  Review) 15 

Wordsworth  Descriptive  Sketches   (Monthly  Review) 16 

An  Evening  Walk  (Monthly  Review) 19 

Lyrical  Ballads  (Critical  Review) 20 

Poems,  1807  (Edinburgh  Review) 24 

Coleridge        Christabel   (Edinburgh  Review) 47 

SouTHEY          Madoc    (Monthly  Review) 60 

Lamb               Blank  Verse  (Monthly  Review) 65 

Album  Verses  (Literary  Gazette) 66 

Landor             Gebir    (British   Critic) 68 

Gebir  (Monthly  Review) 69 

Scott                Marmion   (Edinburgh  Review) 70 

Byron              Hours  of  Idleness  (Edinburgh  Review) 94 

Childe  Harold  (Christian  Observer) loi 

Shelley           Alastor  (Monthly  Review) 115 

The  Cenci  (London  Magazine) 116 

Adonais   (Literary  Gazette) 129 

Keats               Endymion   (Quarterly  Review) '35 

Endymion    (Blackwood's  Magazine) 141 

Tennyson       Timbuctoo    (Athenwum) 151 

Poems,  1833   (Quarterly  Review) 152 

The  Princess  (Literary  Gazette) 176 

Browning        Paracelsus    (Athenceum) 187 

Sordello  (Monthly  Review) 188 

Men  and  Women  (Saturday  Review) 189 

Notes   197 

Index 223 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 


To  the  modern  reader,  with  an  abundance  of  period- 
icals of  all  sorts  and  upon  all  subjects  at  hand,  it  seems 
hardly  possible  that  this  wealth  of  ephemeral  litera- 
ture was  virtually  developed  within  the  past  two  cen- 
turies. It  offers  such  a  rational  means  for  the  dissemi- 
nation of  the  latest  scientific  and  literary  news  that  the 
mind  undeceived  by  facts  would  naturally  place  the  origin 
of  the  periodical  near  the  invention  of  printing  itself. 
Apart  from  certain  sporadic  manifestations  of  what  is 
termed,  by  courtesy,  periodical  literature,  the  real  begin- 
ning of  that  important  department  of  letters  was  in  the 
innumerable  Mcrcurii  that  flourished  in  London  after 
the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War.  Although  the  British 
Museum  Catalogue  presents  a  long  list  of  these  curious 
messengers  and  news-carriers,  the  only  one  that  could 
be  of  interest  in  the  present  connection  is  the  Mercurius 
Lihrarius;  or  a  Catalogue  of  Books  Printed  and  Pub- 
lished at  London*  (1668-70),  the  contents  of  which 
simply  fulfilled  the  promise  of  its  title. 

Literary  journals  in  England  were,  however,  not  a 
native  development,  but  were  copied,  like  the  fashions  and 
artistic  norms  of  that  period,  from  the  French.  The 
famous  and  long-lived  Journal  dcs  Sgavans  was  begun 
at  Paris  in  1665  by  M.  Denis  de  Sallo,  who  has  been 
called,  since  the  time  of  Voltaire,  the  "  inventor "  of 
literary  journals.  In  1684  Pierre  Bayle  began  at  Amster- 
dam the  publication  of  Nouvelles  de  la  Rcpublique  des 
Lettres,  which  continued  under  various  hands  until  1718. 


*  Reprinted    in    Professor    Arber's    The    Term    Catalogues    (1668— 
1709).     London,  privately  printed,  1903. 
I  xiii 


XIV  INTRODUCTION 

These  French  periodicals  were  the  acknowledged  inspira- 
tion for  similar  ventures  in  England,  beginning  in  1682 
with  the  Weekly  Memorial  for  the  Ingenious:  or  an  Ac- 
count of  Books  lately  set  forth  in  Several  Languages,  with 
some  other  Curious  Novelties  relating  to  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences. The  preface  stated  the  intention  of  the  publishers 
to  notice  foreign  as  well  as  domestic  works,  and  to  tran- 
scribe the  "  curious  novelties "  from  the  Journal  des 
Sgavans.  Fifty  weekly  numbers  appeared  (1682-83), 
consisting  principally  of  translations  of  the  best  articles 
in  the  French  journal. 

A  few  years  later  (1686),  the  Genevan  theologian,  Jean 
Le  Clerc,  then  a  resident  of  London,  established  the  Uni- 
versal Historical  Bibliothcque ;  or,  an  Account  of  most  of 
the  Considerable  Books  printed  in  All  Languages,  which 
was  continued  by  various  hands  until  1693  in  a  series 
of  twenty-five  quarto  volumes.  Contemporary  with  this 
review  was  a  number  of  similar  publications  which  had 
for  the  most  part  a  brief  existence.  Among  them  was 
the  Athenian  Mercury,  published  on  Tuesdays  and  Satur- 
days (1691-1696),  the  History  of  Learning,  which  ap- 
peared for  a  short  time  in  1691  and  again  in  1694;  Works 
of  the  Learned  (1691-92)  ;  the  Young  Student's  Library 
(1692)  and  its  continuation,  the  Compleat  Library  (1692- 
94)  ;  Memoirs  for  the  Ingenious  (1693)  ;  the  Universal 
Mercury  (1694)  and  Miscellaneous  Letters,  etc.  (1694- 
96).  Samuel  Parkes  includes  among  the  reviews  of  this 
period  Sir  Thomas  Pope  Blount's  remarkable  Censura 
Celebrium  Authorum  (1690).  That  popular  biblio- 
graphical dictionary  of  criticism  (reprinted  1694,  17 10 
and  1718)  is  only  remembered  now  for  its  omission  of 
Shakespeare,  Spenser,  Jonson  and  Milton  from  its  list  of 
"  celebrated  authors."  Neither  that  volume  nor  the  same 
author's  De  Re  Poetica  (1694)  finds  a  proper  place  in  a 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

list  of  periodicals.  They  should  be  grouped  with  such 
works  as  Phillips'  TJieatrum  Poetarum  (1675)  and  Lang- 
baine's  Account  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets  (1691) 
among  the  more  deliberate  attempts  at  literary  criticism. 
Between  1692-94  appeared  the  Gentleman's  Journal; 
or,  the  Monthly  Miscellany.  Consisting  of  News,  His- 
tory, Philosophy,  Poetry,  Music,  Translations,  etc.  This 
noteworthy  paper,  edited  by  Peter  Anthony  Motteux 
while  he  was  translating  Rabelais,  included  among  its 
contributors  Aphra  Behn,  Oldmixon,  Dennis,  D'Urfey 
and  others.  In  many  ways  it  anticipated  the  plan  of  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine  (1731),  which  has  usually  been 
accorded  the  honor  of  priority  among  English  literary 
magazines.  The  History  of  the  Works  of  the  Learned; 
or,  an  Impartial  Account  of  Books  lately  printed  in  all 
Parts  of  Europe  was  begun  in  1699  and  succumbed  after 
the  publication  of  its  thirteenth  volume  (1711).  Among 
its  editors  was  George  Ridpath,  who  was  afterwards 
immortalized  in  Pope's  Dunciad.  The  careers  of  the 
Monthly  Miscellany  (1707-09)  and  Censura  Temporum 
(1709-10)  were  brief.  About  the  same  time  an  ex- 
tensive series  of  periodicals  was  begun  by  a  Huguenot 
refugee,  Michael  De  la  Roche,  who  fled  to  England  after 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  and  became  an 
Episcopalian.  After  several  years  of  hack-work  for  the 
booksellers,  he  published  (1710)  the  first  numbers  of  his 
Memoirs  of  Literature,  containing  a  Weekly  Account  of 
the  State  of  Learning  at  Home  and  Abroad,  which  he 
continued  until  1714  and  for  a  few  months  in  171 7.  In 
the  latter  year  he  began  at  Amsterdam  his  Bibliotheque 
Angloise  (1717-27),  continued  by  his  Memoires  Littcr- 
aires  de  la  Grande  Bretagne  (i  720-1 724)  after  the  editor- 
ship of  the  former  had  been  placed  in  other  hands  on 
account   of  his   pronounced   anti-Calvinistic   views.    At 


XVI  INTRODUCTION 

Amsterdam,  Daniel  Le  Clerc,  a  brother  of  the  Jean  Le 
Clerc  already  mentioned,  published  his  Bibliotheque 
Choisee  (1703-14)  and  his  Bibliotheque  Ancienne  et 
Moderne  (1714-28).  Both  of  these  periodicals  suggested 
numerous  ideas  to  De  la  Roche,  who  returned  to  London 
and  conducted  the  New  Memoirs  of  Literature  (1725-27). 
His  last  venture  was  a  Literary  Journal,  or  a  Continuation 
of  the  Memoirs  of  Literature,  which  lasted  about  a  year. 
Contemporary  with  De  la  Roche,  Samuel  Jebb  con- 
ducted Bibliotheca  Literaria  (1722-24),  dealing  with 
"  inscriptions,  medals,  dissertations,  etc."  In  1728  An- 
drew Reid  began  the  Present  State  of  the  Republick 
of  Letters,  which  reached  its  eighteenth  volume  in  1736. 
It  was  then  incorporated  with  the  Literary  Magazine;  or 
the  History  of  the  Works  of  the  Learned  (1735-36)  and 
the  joint  periodical  was  henceforth  published  as  a  History 
of  the  Works  of  the  Learned  until  1743.  Other  less  ex- 
tensive literary  journals  of  the  same  period  were  Archi- 
bald Bower's  Historia  Literaria  (1730-34)  ;  the  Bee;  or, 
Universal  Weekly  Pamphlet  (1733-35),  edited  by  Addi- 
son's cousin,  Eustace  Budgell ;  the  British  Librarian,  ex- 
hibiting a  Compendious  Review  or  Abstract  of  our  most 
Scarce,  Useful  and  Valuable  Books,  etc.,  published  anon- 
ymously by  the  antiquarian  William  Oldys,  from  January 
to  June,  1737,  and  much  esteemed  by  modern  biblio- 
philes as  a  pioneer  and  a  curiosity  of  its  kind ;  a  Literary 
Journal  (1744-49)  published  at  Dublin;  and,  finally,  the 
Museum;  or  the  Literary  and  Historical  Register.  This 
interesting  periodical  printed  essays,  poems  and  reviews 
by  such  contributors  as  Spence,  Horace  Walpole,  the 
brothers  Warton,  Akenside,  Lowth  and  others.  It  was 
published  fortnightly  from  March,  1746  to  September, 
1747,  making  three  octavo  volumes. 


INTRODUCTION  xvu 

The  periodicals  enumerated  thus  far  can  hardly  be  re- 
garded as  literary  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  term ; 
they  were,  for  the  most  part,  ponderous,  learned  and 
scientific  in  character,  and,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Gentleman's  Journal  and  Dodsley's  Museum,  rarely  ven- 
tured into  the  domain  of  belles-lettres.  An  occasional 
erudite  dissertation  on  classical  poetry  or  on  the  French 
canons  of  taste  suggested  a  literary  intent,  but  the  bulk 
of  the  journals  was  supplied  by  articles  on  natural  his- 
tory, curious  experiments,  physiological  treatises  and 
historical  essays.  During  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century  theological  and  political  writings,  and  accounts 
of  travels  in  distant  lands  became  the  staple  offering  of 
the  reviews. 

A  new  era  in  the  history  of  English  periodicals  was 
marked  by  the  publication,  on  May  i,  1749,  of  the  first 
number  of  the  Monthly  Review,  destined  to  continue 
through  ninety-six  years  of  varying  fortune  and  to  reach 
its  249th  volume.  It  bore  the  subtitle :  A  Periodical 
Work  giving  an  Account,  with  Proper  Abstracts  of,  and 
Extracts  from,  the  New  Books,  Pamphlets,  etc.,  as  they 
come  out.  By  Several  Hands.  The  publisher  was  Ralph 
Griffiths,  who  continued  to  manage  the  review  until  his 
death  in  1803.  It  seems  remarkable  that  this  periodical 
which  set  the  norm  for  half  a  century  should  have  ap- 
peared not  only  without  preface  or  advertisement,  but 
likewise  without  patronage  or  support  of  any  kind.  From 
the  first  it  reviewed  poetry,  fiction  and  drama  as  well  as 
the  customary  classes  of  applied  Hterature,  and  thus  ap- 
pealed primarily  to  the  public  rather  than,  like  most  of 
its  predecessors,  to  the  learned.  Its  politics  were  Whig 
and  its  theology  Non-conformist.  Griffiths  was  not  suc- 
cessful at  first,  but  determined  to  achieve  popularity  by 
enlisting  Ruffhead,  Kippis,  Langhorne  and  several  other 


xviu  INTRODUCTION 

minor  writers  on  his  critical  staff.  In  1757  Oliver  Gold- 
smith became  one  of  those  unfortunate  hacks  as  a  result 
of  his  well-known  agreement  with  Griffiths  to  serve  as  an 
assistant-editor  in  exchange  for  his  board,  lodging  and 
"  an  adequate  salary."  About  a  score  of  miscellaneous 
reviews  from  Goldsmith's  pen — including  critiques  of 
Home's  Douglas,  Burke's  On  the  Sublime  and  the  Beauti- 
ful, Smollett's  History  of  England  and  Gray's  Odes — 
appeared  in  the  Monthly  Review  during  1757-58.  The 
contract  with  Griffiths  was  soon  broken,  probably  on  ac- 
count of  incompatibility  of  temper.  Goldsmith  declared 
that  he  had  been  over-worked  and  badly  treated ;  but  it  is 
quite  likely  that  his  idleness  and  irregular  habits  con- 
tributed largely  to  the  misunderstanding. 

Meanwhile,  a  Tory  rival  and  a  champion  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church  had  appeared  on  the  field.  A  printer 
named  Archibald  Hamilton  projected  the  Critical  Re- 
view: or,  Annals  of  Literature.  By  a  Society  of  Gen- 
tlemen, which  began  to  appear  in  February,  1756,  under 
the  editorship  of  Tobias  Smollett  and  extended  to  a  total 
of  144  volumes  when  it  ceased  publication  in  1817.  Its 
articles  were  of  a  high  order  for  the  time  and  the  new 
review  soon  became  popular.  The  open  rivalry  between 
the  reviews  was  fostered  by  an  exchange  of  editorial  com- 
pliments. Griffiths  published  a  statement  that  the 
Monthly  was  not  written  by  "  physicians  without  practice, 
authors  without  learning,  men  without  decency,  gentlemen 
without  manners,  and  critics  without  judgment."  Smollett 
retorted  that  "  the  Critical  Review  is  not  written  by  a 
parcel  of  obscure  hirelings,  under  the  restraint  of  a  book- 
seller and  his  wife,  who  presume  to  revise,  alter  and  amend 
the  articles  occasionally.  The  principal  writers  in  the 
Critical  Review  are  unconnected  with  booksellers,  unawed 
by  old  women,  and  independent  of  each  other."     Such 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

literary  encounters  did  not  fail  to  stimulate  public  interest 
in  both  reviews  and  to  add  materially  to  their  circulation. 
When  the  first  volume  of  the  Critical  Review  was  com- 
plete, the  "  Society  of  Gentlemen  "  enriched  it  with  an 
ornate,  self-congratulatory  Preface  in  which  they  said  of 
themselves : 

"  However  they  may  have  erred  in  j  udgment,  they  have  de- 
clared their  thoughts  without  prejudice,  fear,  or  affectation;  and 
strove  to  forget  the  author's  person,  while  his  works  fell  under 
their  consideration.  They  have  treated  simple  dulness  as  the 
object  of  mirth  or  compassion,  according  to  the  nature  of  its 
appearance.  Petulance  and  self-conceit  they  have  corrected  with 
more  severe  strictures ;  and  though  they  have  given  no  quarter  to 
insolence,  scurrility  and  sedition,  they  will  venture  to  affirm, 
that  no  production  of  merit  has  been  defrauded  of  its  due  share 
of  applause.  On  the  contrary,  they  have  cherished  with  com- 
mendation, the  very  faintest  bloom  of  genius,  even  when  vapid 
and  unformed,  in  hopes  of  its  being  warmed  into  flavour,  and 
afterwards  producing  agreeable  fruit  by  dint  of  proper  care  and 
culture;  and  never,  without  reluctance  disapproved,  even  of  a 
bad  writer,  who  had  the  least  title  to  indulgence.  The  judicious 
reader  will  perceive  that  their  aim  has  been  to  exhibit  a  succinct 
plan  of  every  performance ;  to  point  out  the  most  striking  beauties 
and  glaring  defects;  to  illustrate  their  remarks  with  proper 
quotations;  and  to  convey  these  remarks  in  such  a  manner,  as 
might  best  conduce  to  the  entertainment  of  the  public." 

Moreover,  these  high  ideals  were  entertained  under  the 
most  unfavorable  circumstances.  By  the  time  the  second 
volume  was  complete,  the  editors  took  pleasure  in  an- 
nouncing that  in  spite  of  "  open  assault  and  private 
assassination,"  "  published  reproach  and  printed  letters  of 
abuse,  distributed  like  poisoned  arrows  in  the  dark,"  yea, 
in  spite  of  the  "  breath  of  secret  calumny  "  and  the  "  loud 
blasts  of  obloquy,"  the  Critical  Review  was  more  strongly 
entrenched  than  before. 

There  was  more  than  mere  rhodomontade  in  these 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

words.  Not  only  did  open  rivalry  exist  between  the  two 
reviews,  but  they  were  both  made  the  subject  of  violent 
attacks  by  authors  whose  productions  had  been  con- 
demned on  their  pages.  John  Brine  (1755),  John  Sheb- 
beare  (1757),  Horace  Walpole  (1759),  William  Kenrick 
(1759),  James  Grainger  (1759)  and  Joseph  Reed  (1759) 
are  the  earliest  of  the  many  writers  who  issued  pamphlets 
in  reply  to  articles  in  the  reviews.  In  1759  Smollett  was 
tried  at  the  King's  Bench  for  aspersions  upon  the  char- 
acter of  Admiral  Sir  Charles  Knowles  published  in  the 
Critical  Review.  He  was  declared  guilty,  fined  £100, 
and  sentenced  to  three  months'  imprisonment.  Yet  in 
spite  of  such  difficulties,  the  Critical  Review  continued  to 
find  favor  among  its  readers.  The  articles  written  by 
its  "  Society  of  Gentlemen  "  were  on  the  whole  far  more 
interesting  in  subject  and  treatment  than  the  work  of 
Griffiths'  unfortunate  hacks;  but  the  Monthly  was  also 
prospering,  as  in  1761  a  fourth  share  in  that  review  was 
sold  for  more  than  £755. 

In  1760  appeared  a  curious  anonymous  satire  entitled 
The  Battle  of  the  Reviews,  which  presented,  upon  the 
model  of  Swift's  spirited  account  of  the  contest  between 
ancient  and  modern  learning,  a  fantastic  description  of 
the  open  warfare  between  the  two  reviews.  After  a  for- 
mal declaration  of  hostilities  both  sides  marshal  their 
forces  for  the  struggle.  The  "  noble  patron "  of  the 
Monthly  is  but  slightly  disguised  as  the  Right  Honourable 
Rehoboam  Gruffy,  Esq.  His  associates  Sir  Imp  Brazen, 
Mynheer  Tanaquil  Limmonad,  Martin  Problem,  and 
others  were  probably  recognized  by  contemporary  readers. 
To  oppose  this  array  the  Critical  summons  a  force  that 
contains  only  two  names  of  distinction,  Sampson  Mac- 
Jackson  and  Sawney  MacSmallhead  (i.  e.,  Smollett). 
The  ensuing  battle,  which  is  described  at  great  length. 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

results  in  a  victory  for  the  Critical  Review,  and  the 
banishment  of  Squire  Gruffy  to  the  land  of  the  Hottentots. 
Dr.  Johnson's  well-known  characterization  of  the  two 
reviews  was  quite  just.  On  the  occasion  of  his  memorable 
interview  (1767)  with  George  III,  Johnson  gave  the 
King  information  concerning  the  Journal  des  Savons  and 
said  of  the  two  English  reviews  that  "  the  Monthly  Re- 
view was  done  with  most  care ;  the  Critical  upon  the  best 
principles;  adding  that  the  authors  of  the  Monthly  Re- 
view were  enemies  to  the  Church."  Some  years  later 
Johnson  said  of  the  reviews : 

"  I  think  them  very  impartial :  I  do  not  know  an  instance  of 
partiality.  .  .  ,  The  Monthly  Reviewers  are  not  Deists;  but  they 
are  Christians  with  as  little  Christianity  as  may  be;  and  are  for 
pulling  down  all  establishments.  The  Critical  Reviewers  are  for 
supporting  the  constitution  both  in  church  and  state.  The 
Critical  Reviewers,  I  believe,  often  review  without  reading  the 
books  through ;  but  lay  hold  of  a  topick  and  write  chiefly  from 
their  own  minds.  The  Monthly  Reviewers  are  duller  men  and 
are  glad  to  read  the  books  through." 

Goldsmith's  successor  on  the  Monthly  staff  was  the 
notorious  libeller  and  "  superlative  scoundrel,"  Dr.  Wil- 
liam Kenrick,  who  signalized  his  advent  (November, 
1759)  by  writing  an  outrageous  attack  upon  Goldsmith's 
Enquiry  into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in 
Europe.  His  utterances  were  so  thoroughly  unjustified 
that  Griffiths,  who  had  scant  reason  for  praising  poor 
Oliver,  made  an  indirect  apology  for  his  unworthy  minion 
by  a  favorable  though  brief  review  (June,  1762)  of  The 
Citizen  of  the  World.  During  1759  the  Critical  Review 
published  a  number  of  Goldsmith's  articles  which  prob- 
ably enabled  the  impecunious  author  to  effect  his  removal 
from  the  garret  in  Salisbury  Square  to  the  famous  lodg- 
ings in  Green  Arbour  Court.  After  March,  1760,  we 
find  no  record  of  his  association  with  either  review,  al- 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

though  he  afterwards  wrote  for  the  British  Magazine  and 
others. 

During  the  latter  half  of  the  century  several  reviews 
appeared  and  flourished  for  a  time  without  serious  damage 
to  their  well-established  rivals.  The  Literary  Magazine; 
or  Universal  Review  (1756-58)  is  memorable  for  John- 
son's cooperation  and  a  half-dozen  articles  by  Goldsmith. 
Boswell  tells  us  that  Johnson  wrote  for  the  magazine  until 
the  fifteenth  number  and  "that  he  never  gave  better  proofs 
of  the  force,  acuteness  and  vivacity  of  his  mind,  than  in 
this  miscellany,  whether  we  consider  his  original  essays,  or 
his  reviews  of  the  works  of  others."  The  London  Re- 
view of  English  and  Foreign  Literature  (1775-80)  was 
conducted  by  the  infamous  Kenrick  and  others  who  faith- 
fully maintained  the  editor's  well-recognized  policy  of 
vicious  onslaught  and  personal  abuse.  Paul  Henry  Maty, 
an  assistant-librarian  of  the  British  Museum,  conducted 
for  five  years  a  New  Review  (1782-86),  often  called 
Maty's  Review,  and  dealing  principally  with  learned 
works.  It  apparently  enjoyed  some  authority,  but  both 
Walpole  and  Gibbon  spoke  unfavorably  of  Maty's  critical 
pretensions.  The  English  Review;  or,  an  Abstract  of 
English  and  Foreign  Literature  (1783-96),  extended  to 
twenty-eight  volumes  modelled  upon  the  plan  of  the  older 
periodicals.  In  1796  it  was  incorporated  with  the  Analyt- 
ical Review  (1788)  and  survived  under  the  latter  title 
until  1799.  The  Analytical  Review  deprecated  the  self- 
sufficient  attitude  of  contemporary  criticism  and  advo- 
cated extensive  quotations  from  the  works  under  con- 
sideration so  that  readers  might  be  able  to  judge  for  them- 
selves. It  likewise  hinted  at  the  tacit  understanding  then 
existing  between  certain  authors,  publishers  and  reviews 
for  their  mutual  advantage,  but  which  was  arousing  a 
growing  feeling  of  distrust  on  the  part  of  the  public.    The 


INTRODUCTION  xxiu 

British  Critic  (1793-1843)  was  edited  by  William  Beloe 
and  Robert  Nares  as  the  organ  of  the  High  Church  Party. 
This  "  dull  mass  of  orthodoxy "  concerned  itself  ex- 
tensively with  literary  reviews ;  but  its  articles  were  best 
known  for  their  lack  of  interest  and  authority.  The 
foibles  of  the  British  Critic  were  satirized  in  Bishop 
Copleston's  Advice  to  a  Young  Reviewer  (1807)  with  an 
appended  mock  critique  of  Milton's  U Allegro.  In  1826 
it  was  united  with  the  Quarterly  Theological  Review  and 
continued  until  1843. 

The  Anti-Jacobin  Review  and  Magazine;  or,  Monthly 
Political  and  Literary  Censor  (1799-1821)  played  a 
strenuous  role  in  the  troublous  times  of  the  Napoleonic 
wars.  It  continued  the  policy  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  or 
Weekly  Examiner  (1797-98)  conducted  with  such 
marked  vigor  by  William  Gifford,  but  it  numbered  among 
its  contributors  none  of  the  brilliant  men  whose  witty 
verses  for  the  weekly  paper  are  still  read  in  the  popular 
Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin.  The  Review  was  conducted 
by  John  Richards  Green,  better  known  as  John  Gifford. 
Its  articles  were  at  times  sensational  in  character,  viciously 
abusing  writers  of  known  or  suspected  republican  senti- 
ments. From  its  pages  could  be  culled  a  new  series  of 
"  Beauties  of  the  Anti-Jacobin "  which  for  sheer  vitu- 
peration and  relentless  abuse  would  be  without  a  rival 
among  such  anthologies. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  prin- 
cipal reviews  in  course  of  publication  were  the  Monthly, 
the  Critical,  the  British  Critic,  and  the  Anti-Jacobin.  The 
latter  was  preeminently  vulgar  in  its  appeal,  the  Critical 
had  lost  its  former  prestige,  and  the  other  two  had  never 
risen  above  a  level  of  mediocrity.  There  was  more  than 
a  lurking  suspicion  that  these  periodicals  were,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  booksellers'  organs,  quite  unreliable  on  ac- 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION 

count  of  the  partial  and  biassed  criticisms  which  they 
offered  the  dissatisfied  pubhc.  The  time  was  evidently 
ripe  for  a  new  departure  in  literary  reviews — for  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  trustworthy  critical  journal,  conducted  by 
capable  editors  and  printing  readable  notices  of  important 
books.  People  were  quite  willing  to  have  an  unfortu- 
nate author  assailed  and  flayed  for  their  entertainment; 
but  they  did  not  care  to  be  deceived  by  laudatory  criticisms 
that  were  inspired  by  the  publisher's  name  instead  of  the 
intrinsic  merits  of  the  work  itself. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Francis  Jeffrey, 
Henry  Brougham  and  Sydney  Smith  launched  the  Edin- 
burgh Review  in  1802,  choosing  a  name  that  had  been 
borne  in  1755-56  by  a  short-lived  semi-annual  review. 
There  were  several  significant  facts  associated  with  the 
new  enterprise.  It  was  the  first  important  literary  period- 
ical to  be  published  beyond  the  metropolis.  It  was  the 
first  review  to  appear  quarterly — a;n  interval  that  most 
contemporary  journalists  would  have  condemned  as  too 
long  for  a  successful  review.  Moreover,  it  was  conducted 
upon  an  entirely  different  principle  than  any  previous  re- 
view; by  restricting  its  attention  to  the  most  important 
works  of  each  quarter,  it  gave  extensive  critiques  of  only 
a  few  books  in  each  number  and  thus  avoided  the  multi- 
tude of  perfunctory  notices  that  had  made  previous  re- 
views so  dreary  and  unreadable. 

The  idea  of  founding  the  Edinburgh  Review  was  ap- 
parently suggested  by  Sydney  Smith  in  March,  1802. 
Jeffrey  and  Francis  Homer  were  his  immediate  associates ; 
but  during  the  period  of  preparation  Henry  Brougham, 
Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  Dr.  John  Thomson  and  others  became 
interested.  After  some  delay,  the  first  number  appeared 
on  October  10,  1802,  containing  among  its  twenty-nine 
articles  three  by  Brougham,  five  by  Homer,  six  by  Jeffrey 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

and  nine  by  Smith.  Although  there  was  a  sHght  feeling 
of  disappointment  over  the  mild  political  tone  of  the  new 
review,  its  success  was  immediate.  The  edition  of  750 
copies  was  speedily  disposed  of,  and  within  a  month  a 
second  edition  of  equal  size  was  printed.  There  was  no 
regular  editor  at  first,  although  the  publication  of  the 
first  three  numbers  was  practically  superintended  by 
Smith.  Afterwards  Jeffrey  became  editor  at  a  salary  of 
£300.  He  had  previously  written  some  articles  (including 
a  critique  of  Southey's  Thalaba)  for  the  Monthly  Re- 
viezv  and  was  pessimistic  enough  to  anticipate  an  early 
failure  for  the  new  venture.  However,  at  the  time  he 
assumed  control  (July,  1803)  the  circulation  was  2500, 
and  within  five  years  it  reached  8,000  or  9,000  copies. 
Jeffrey's  articles  were  recognized  and  much  admired ;  but 
the  success  of  the  Edinburgh  was  due  to  its  independent 
tone  and  general  excellence  rather  than  to  the  individual 
contributions  of  its  editor.  Its  prosperity  enabled  the 
publishers  to  offer  the  contributors  attractive  remunera- 
tion for  their  articles,  thus  assuring  the  cooperation  of 
specialists  and  of  the  most  capable  men  of  letters  of  the 
day.  At  the  outset,  ten  guineas  per  sheet  were  paid ;  later 
sixteen  became  the  minimum,  and  the  average  ranged 
from  twenty  to  twenty-five  guineas.  When  we  recall  that 
the  Critical  Review  paid  two,  and  the  Monthly  Review 
sometimes  four  guineas  per  sheet,  we  can  readily  under- 
stand the  distinctly  higher  standard  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review. 

Horner  left  Scotland  for  London  in  1803  to  embark 
upon  a  political  career.  During  the  next  six  years  occa- 
sional articles  from  his  pen — less  than  a  score  in  all — 
appeared  in  the  review.  Smith  and  Brougham  likewise 
left  Edinburgh  in  1803  and  1805  respectively;  but  they 
ably  supported  Jeffrey  by  sending  numerous  contributions 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION 

for  many  years.  During  the  first  quarter-century  of  the 
review's  existence,  this  trio,  with  the  cooperation  of  Sir 
James  Mackintosh  and  a  few  others,  constituted  the  main- 
stay of  its  success.  Jeffrey's  remarkable  critical  faculty 
was  displayed  to  best  advantage  in  the  wide  range  of 
articles  (two  hundred  in  number)  which  he  wrote  during 
his  editorship.  It  is  true  that  his  otherwise  sound  judg- 
ment was  unable  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the  new 
poetic  movement  of  his  day,  and  that  his  best  remembered 
efforts  are  the  diatribes  against  the  Lake  Poets.  Hence, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  modern  literary  dilettante,  he  figures 
as  a  misguided,  domineering  Zoilus  whose  mission  in  life 
was  to  heap  ridicule  upon  the  poetical  efforts  of  Words- 
worth, Coleridge  and  the  lesser  disciples  of  romanticism. 

There  are  in  the  early  volumes  of  the  Edinburgh  no 
more  conspicuous  qualities  than  that  air  of  vivacity  and 
graceful  wit,  so  thoroughly  characteristic  of  Sydney 
Smith.  The  reader  who  turns  to  those  early  numbers 
may  be  disappointed  in  the  literary  quality  of  the  average 
article,  for  he  will  instinctively  and  unfairly  make  com- 
parison with  more  recent  standards,  instead  of  considering 
the  immeasurably  inferior  conditions  that  had  previously 
prevailed ;  but  we  may  safely  assert  that  the  majority 
of  Smith's  articles  can  be  read  with  interest  to-day.  He 
was  sufficiently  sedate  and  serious  when  occasion  de- 
manded; yet  at  all  times  he  delighted  in  the  display  of 
his  native  and  sparkling  humor.  Although  most  of  his 
important  articles  have  been  collected,  far  too  much  of  his 
work  lies  buried  in  that  securest  of  literary  sepulchres — 
the  back  numbers  of  a  critical  review. 

Henry  Brougham  at  first  wrote  the  scientific  articles 
for  the  Edinburgh.  Soon  his  ability  to  deal  with  a  wide 
range  of  subjects  was  recognized  and  he  proved  the  most 
versatile  of  the  early  reviewers.     In  the  first  twenty  num- 


INTRODUCTION  xxvu 

bers  are  eighty  articles  from  his  pen.  A  story  that  does 
not  admit  of  verification  attributes  to  Brougham  a  whole 
number  of  the  Edinburgh,  including  an  article  on  lithot- 
omy and  another  on  Chinese  music.  Later  he  became 
especially  distinguished  for  his  political  articles,  and  re- 
mained a  contributor  long  after  Jeffrey  and  Smith  had 
withdrawn,  A  comparatively  small  portion  of  his  Edin- 
burgh articles  was  reprinted  (1856)  in  three  volumes. 

Although  the  young  men  who  guided  the  early  fortunes 
of  the  review  were  Whigs,  the  Edinburgh  was  not  (as  is 
generally  believed)  founded  as  a  Whig  organ.  In  fact, 
the  political  complexion  of  their  articles  was  so  subdued 
that  even  stalwart  Tories  like  Walter  Scott  did  not  re- 
frain from  contributing  to  its  pages.  Scott's  Marmion 
was  somewhat  sharply  reviewed  by  Jeffrey  in  April,  1808, 
and  in  the  following  October  appeared  the  article  by 
Jeffrey  and  Brougham  upon  Don  Pedro  Cevallos'  French 
Usurpation  of  Spain.  The  pronounced  Whiggism  of  that 
critique  led  to  an  open  rupture  with  the  Tory  contributors. 
Scott,  who  was  no  longer  on  the  best  terms  with  Con- 
stable, the  publisher  of  the  Edinburgh,  declared  that 
henceforth  he  could  neither  receive  nor  read  the  review. 
He  proposed  to  John  Murray — then  of  Fleet  Street — the 
founding  of  a  Tory  quarterly  in  London  as  a  rival  to  the 
northern  review  that  had  thus  far  enjoyed  undisputed 
possession  of  the  field,  because  it  afforded  "  the  only 
valuable  literary  criticism  which  can  be  met  with." 
Murray,  who  had  already  entertained  the  idea  of  estab- 
lishing such  a  review,  naturally  welcomed  the  prospect 
of  so  powerful  an  ally.  Like  a  good  Tory,  Scott  felt  that 
the  *'  flashy  and  bold  character  of  the  Edinburgh's  politics 
was  likely  to  produce  an  indelible  impression  upon  the 
youth  of  the  country."  He  ascertained  that  William 
Gifford,  formerly  editor  of  the  Anti-Jacobin  newspaper, 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

was  willing  to  take  charge  of  the  new  review,  which  Scott 
desired  to  be  not  exclusively  nor  principally  political,  but 
a  "  periodical  work  of  criticism  conducted  with  equal 
talent,  but  upon  sounder  principle  than  that  which  had 
gained  so  high  a  station  in  the  world  of  letters." 

In  February,  1809,  appeared  the  first  number  of  the 
Quarterly  Review.  Three  of  its  articles  were  by  Scott, 
who  continued  to  contribute  for  some  time  and  whose 
advice  was  frequently  sought  by  both  editor  and  publisher. 
Canning,  Ellis,  and  others  who  had  written  for  the  then 
defunct  Anti-Jacobin  became  interested  in  the  Quarterly; 
but  the  principal  contributors  for  many  years  were  Robert 
Southey,  John  Wilson  Croker  and  Sir  John  Barrow.  This 
trio  contributed  an  aggregate  of  almost  five  hundred 
articles  to  the  Quarterly.  In  spite  of  its  high  standard, 
the  new  venture  was  a  financial  failure  for  at  least  the 
first  two  years ;  later,  especially  in  the  days  of  Tory 
triumph  after  the  overthrow  of  Napoleon,  the  Quarterly 
flourished  beyond  all  expectation.  Gifford's  salary  as 
editor  was  raised  from  the  original  £200  to  £900;  for 
many  years  Southey  was  paid  iioo  for  each  article. 
Gifford  was  distinctly  an  editor  of  the  old  school,  with 
well-defined  ideas  of  his  official  privilege  of  altering  con- 
tributed articles  to  suit  himself — a  weakness  that  like- 
wise afflicted  Francis  Jeffrey.  While  it  appears  that 
Gifford  wrote  practically  nothing  for  the  review  and  that 
the  savage  Endymion  article  so  persistently  attributed  to 
him  was  really  the  work  of  Croker,  he  was  an  excellent 
manager  and  conducted  the  literary  affairs  of  the 
Quarterly  with  considerable  skill.  His  lack  of  system 
and  of  business  qualifications,  however,  resulted  in  the 
frequently  irregular  appearance  of  the  early  numbers. 

On  account  of  his  failing  health,  Gifford  resigned  the 
editorship  of  the  Quarterly  in  1824,  and  was  succeeded  by 


INTRODUCTION  xxix 

John  Taylor  Coleridge,  whose  brief  and  unimportant 
administration  served  merely  to  fill  the  gap  until  an  effi- 
cient successor  for  Gifford  could  be  found.  The  choice 
fell  upon  Scott's  son-in-law,  John  Gibson  Lockhart,  who, 
from  1825  to  1853,  proved  to  be  a  most  capable  editor. 
The  subsequent  history  of  the  review  under  Whitwell 
Elwin  (1853-1860),  William  Macpherson  (1860-1867), 
Sir  William  Smith  (1867-1893),  Mr.  Rowland  Prothero 
(1894-1899)  and  the  latter's  brother,  Mr.  George  Pro- 
thero, the  present  editor,  naturally  lies  beyond  the  purposes 
of  this  introduction. 

The  period  of  Lockhart's  editorship  of  the  ■  Quarterly 
was  likewise  the  golden  epoch  of  the  Edinburgh.  Sydney 
Smith's  contributions  ceased  about  1828.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  Jeffrey  was  elected  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Advo- 
cates. He  felt  that  the  tenure  of  his  new  dignity  de- 
manded the  relinquishment  of  the  editorship  of  an  inde- 
pendent literary  and  political  review ;  accordingly,  after 
editing  the  ninety-eighth  number  of  the  Edinburgh,  he 
retired  in  favor  of  Macvey  Napier,  who  had  been  a  con- 
tributor since  1805.  Napier  conducted  the  review  with 
great  success  from  1829  until  his  death  in  1847.  His 
policy  was  to  prefer  shorter  articles  than  those  printed 
when  he  assumed  control.  At  first,  each  number  con- 
tained from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  articles  ;  but  the  growing 
length  and  importance  of  the  political  contributions  had 
reduced  the  average  to  ten.  The  return  to  the  original 
policy  naturally  resulted  in  a  greater  variety  of  purely 
literary  articles. 

Macaulay  had  begun  his  association  with  the  Edin- 
burgh by  his  remarkable  essay  on  Milton  in  1825 — a 
bold,  striking  piece  of  criticism,  full  of  the  fire  of  youth, 
which  established  his  literary  reputation  and  gave  a  re- 
newed impetus  to  the  already  prosperous  review.     Dur- 


XXX  INTRODUCTION 

ing  Napier's  editorship  he  contributed  his  essays  on 
Croker's  Boswell,  Hampden,  Burleigh,  Horace  Walpole, 
Lord  Chatham,  Bacon,  Clive,  Hastings  and  many  others. 
Napier  experienced  some  difficulty  in  steering  a  middle 
course  for  the  review  between  Lord  Brougham,  who 
sought  to  use  its  pages  to  further  his  own  political  ambi- 
tions, and  Macaulay,  who  vigorously  denounced  the  pro- 
cedure. The  Edinburgh  was  no  longer  conspicuous 
among  its  numerous  contemporaries ;  but  the  literary 
quality  was  much  higher  than  at  first.  Among  the  other 
famous  contributors  of  this  period  were  Carlyle,  John 
Stuart  Mill,  Thackeray,  Bulwer,  Hallam,  Sir  William 
Hamilton  and  many  others.  This  was  undoubtedly  the 
greatest  period  in  the  history  of  the  review.  Its  power  in 
Whig  politics  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  Lord  Melbourne 
and  Lord  John  Russell  sought  to  make  it  the  organ  of  the 
government. 

Napier's  successor  in  1847  was  WilUam  Empson,  who 
had  contributed  to  the  Edinburgh  since  1823  and  who  held 
the  editorship  until  his  demise  in  1852.  Next  followed 
Sir  George  Cornewall  Lewis,  who,  however,  resigned  in 
1855  to  become  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in  Lord 
Palmerston's  cabinet.  During  his  regime  he  wrote  less 
than  a  score  of  articles  for  the  review.  His  immediate 
successor  was  the  late  Henry  Reeve,  whose  forty  years  of 
faithful  service  until  his  death  in  1895  brings  the  review 
practically  to  our  own  day.  When  Reeve  began  his  duties 
by  editing  No.  206  (April,  1855)  Lord  Brougham  was 
the  only  survivor  of  the  contributors  to  the  original  num- 
ber. In  1857,  when  a  discussion  arose  between  editor  and 
publisher  concerning  the  denunciatory  attitude  assumed 
by  the  review  toward  Lord  Palmerston's  ministry.  Reeve 
drew  up  a  list  of  his  contributors  at  that  time,  including 
Bishop    (afterwards   Archbishop)    Tait,    George   Grote, 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

John  Forster,  M.  Guizot,  the  Duke  of  Arg^-ll,  Rev.  Canon 
Moseley,  George  S.  Venables,  Richard  Monckton  Milnes 
and  a  score  of  others — most  of  them  "  names  of  the 
highest  honour  and  the  most  consistent  adherence  to 
Liberal  principles."  Within  the  four  decades  that  fol- 
lowed, the  personnel  of  the  review  has  made  another 
almost  complete  change.  A  new  group  of  contributors, 
under  the  editorship  of  Hon.  Arthur  R.  D.  Elliot,  is  now 
striving  to  maintain  the  standards  of  old  "  blue  and 
yellow."  A  caustic  note  in  the  (1890)  Annual  Index  of 
Review  of  Reviews  said  of  the  Edinburgh: 

"  It  has  long  since  subsided  into  a  respectable  exponent  of 
high  and  dry  Whiggery,  which  in  these  later  days  has  undergone 
a  further  degeneration  or  evolution  into  Unionism.  .  .  .  Audacity, 
wit,  unconventionaHty,  enthusiasm — all  these  quaHties  have  long 
since  evaporated,  and  with  them  has  disappeared  the  political 
influence  of  the  Edinburgh." 

The  two  great  rivals  which  are  now  reaching  their  cen- 
tenary* are  still  the  most  prominent,  in  fact  the  only  well- 
known  literary  quarterlies  of  England.  During  their  life- 
time many  quarterlies  have  risen,  flourished  for  a  time 
and  perished.  The  Westminster  Review,  founded  1824, 
by  Jeremy  Bentham,  appeared  under  the  editorship  of  Sir 
John  Bowring  and  Henry  Southern.  As  the  avowed 
organ  of  the  Radicals  it  lost  no  time  in  assailing  (prin- 
cipally through  the  vigorous  pens  of  James  Mill  and 
John  Stuart  Mill)  both  the  Edinburgh  and  the  Quarterly. 
In  1836  Sir  William  Molesworth's  recently  established 
London  Review  was  united  with  the  Westminster,  and, 
after  several  changes  of  joint  title,  continued  since  185 1 
as  the  Westminster  Review.     Since  1887  it  has  been  pub- 


*  See  the  centenary  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  (October, 
1902).  During  the  editor's  recent  tenure  of  government  office,  the 
review  was  temporarily  edited  by  Mr.   E.   S.   Roscoe. 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

lished  as  a  monthly  of  Liberal  policy  and  "  high-class 
philosophy."  The  Dublin  Review  (London,  1836)  still 
continues  quarterly  as  a  Roman  Catholic  organ ;  similarly 
the  London  Quarterly  Review,  a  Wesleyan  organ,  has 
been  published  since  1853.  Of  the  quarterlies  now  de- 
funct, it  will  suffice  to  mention  the  dissenting  Eclectic 
Review  (1805-68)  owned  and  edited  for  a  time  by  Josiah 
Conder;  the  British  Review  (181 1-25)  ;  the  Christian 
Remembrancer  (1819-68),  which  was  a  monthly  during 
its  early  history;  the  Retrospective  Review  (1820-26, 
1853-54)  conducted  by  Henry  Southern  and  afterwards 
Sir  Nicholas  Harris  Nicolas  as  a  critical  review  for  old 
and  curious  books;  the  English  Review  (1844-53)  J  ^^^ 
the  North  British  Review  (1844-71),  published  at  Edin- 
burgh. The  impulse  toward  the  study  of  continental 
literature  during  the  third  decade  of  the  century  gave  rise 
to  the  Foreign  Quarterly  Review  (1827-46)  ;  the  Foreign 
Review  and  Continental  Miscellany  (1828-30)  and  the 
British  and  Foreign  Review  (1835-44),  continued  as  the 
British  Quarterly  Review  (1845-86). 

A  most  determined  effort  to  rival  the  older  quarterlies 
resulted  in  the  National  Review,  founded  in  1855  by 
Walter  Bagehot  and  Richard  Holt  Hutton.  Its  articles 
were  exhaustive,  well-written  and  thoroughly  charac- 
teristic of  their  class.  In  addition  to  the  excellent  work 
of  both  editors,  there  were  contributions  by  James  Mar- 
tineau,  Matthew  Arnold,  and  Hutton's  brother-in-law, 
William  Caldwell  Roscoe.  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  high 
standards  maintained  until  the  end,  the  National  ceased 
publication  in  1864.  The  many  failures  in  this  class  of 
periodicals  seem  to  indicate  quite  clearly  that  the  spirit  of 
the  age  no  longer  favors  a  quarterly.  For  our  energetic 
and  progressive  era  such  an  interval  is  too  long.  The 
confirmed  admirer  of  the  elaborate  essays  of  the  Edin- 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

burgh  and  the  Quarterly  will  continue  to  welcome  their 
bulky  numbers ;  but  the  average  reader  is  strongly  pre- 
judiced in  favor  of  the  more  frequent,  more  attractive  and 
more  thoroughly  entertaining  monthlies. 

It  is  one  of  the  curiosities  in  the  history  of  periodical 
literature  that  no  popular  monthly  developed  during  the 
first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century :  the  great  quarterlies 
apparently  usurped  the  entire  field.  We  have  already 
seen  that  the  Critical  Review  came  to  an  end  in  1817 
whilst  the  Monthly  continued  until  1843,  ^^  both  cases, 
however,  the  publication  amounted  to  little  more  than 
a  sheer  struggle  for  existence.  The  Monthly's  attempt 
to  imitate  in  a  smaller  way  the  plan  of  the  quarterlies 
proved  an  unqualified  failure.  Neither  of  the  two  period- 
icals established  at  the  beginning  of  the  century  ever 
achieved  a  position  of  critical  authority.  The  Christian 
Observer,  started  (1802)  by  Josiah  Pratt  and  conducted 
by  Zachary  Macaulay  until  181 6,  was  devoted  mainly 
to  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade.  Its  subsequent  his- 
tory until  its  demise  in  1877  ^^  confined  almost  wholly  to 
the  theological  pale.  The  second  periodical  was  the 
Monthly  Repository  of  Theology  and  General  Literature 
(1806-37),  which  achieved  some  literary  prominence  for 
a  time  under  the  editorship  of  W.  J.  Fox.  During  the 
last  two  years  of  its  existence,  Richard  Hengist  Home 
and  Leigh  Hunt  became  its  successive  editors,  but  failed 
to  avert  the  final  collapse. 

It  would  be  useless  to  enumerate  the  many  short-lived 
attempts,  such  as  the  Monthly  Censor  (1822)  and  Long- 
man's Monthly  Chronicle  (1838-41)  that  were  made  to 
provide  a  successful  monthly  review.  The  first  of  the 
modern  literary  monthlies  was  the  Fortnightly  Review, 
established  in  1865,  evidently  upon  the  model  of  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes,  which  had  been  published  at  Paris 


XXXIV  -INTRODUCTION 

since  1831,  Like  the  great  French  periodical,  it  was 
issued  fortnightly  (at  first)  and  printed  signed  articles. 
It  was  Liberal  in  politics,  agnostic  in  religion  and  abreast 
of  the  times  in  science.  The  publishers,  Messrs.  Chap- 
man and  Hall,  secured  an  experienced  editor  in  George 
Henry  Lewes,  who  had  contributed  extensively  to  most 
of  the  reviews  then  in  progress.  The  success  of  the  new 
review  was  assured  by  the  presence  of  such  names  as 
Walter  Bagehot,  George  Eliot,  Sir  John  Herschel,  Mr. 
Frederic  Harrison  and  Herbert  Spencer  on  its  list  of  con- 
tributors. It  provided  articles  of  timely  interest  in 
politics,  literature,  art  and  science ;  in  its  early  volumes 
appeared  serially  Anthony  Trollope's  Belton  Estate  and 
Mr.  George  Meredith's  Vittoria. 

Lewes  edited  the  first  six  volumes,  covering  the  years 
1865-66.  The  review  was  then  made  a  monthly  without, 
however,  changing  its  now  inappropriate  name,  and  the 
editorship  was  accepted  by  Mr.  John  Morley,  who  con- 
ducted the  Fortnightly  with  great  success  for  sixteen 
years.  Most  of  the  earlier  contributors  were  retained ; 
others  like  Mr.  Swinburne,  J.  A.  Symonds,  Professor 
Edward  Dowden  and  (Sir)  Leslie  Stephen  established  a 
standard  of  literary  criticism  that  was  practically  un- 
rivalled. The  authority  of  its  scientific  and  political 
writers  was  equally  high ;  as  for  serial  fiction,  Mr.  Morley 
published  Mr.  Meredith's  Bemichamp's  Career  and  The 
Tragic  Comedians,  besides  less  important  novels  by  Trol- 
lope  and  others.  More  recently  the  publication  of  fiction 
has  been  exceptional.  The  (1890)  Reviezv  of  Reviews 
Index  said  of  the  Fortnightly: 

"  While  disclaiming  '  party  '  or  '  editorial  consistency,'  and  pro- 
claiming that  its  pages  were  open  to  all  views,  the  Fortnightly 
seldom  included  the  orthodox  among  its  contributors.  The  arti- 
cles which  startled  people  and  made  small  earthquakes  beneath 


INTRODUCTION  ,  xxxv 

the  crust  of  conventional  orthodoxy,  poHtical  and  religious,  usually 
appeared  in  the  Fortnightly.  It  was  here  that  Professor  Huxley 
seemed  to  foreshadow  the  expulsion  of  the  spiritual  from  the 
world,  by  his  paper  on  'The  Physical  Basis  of  Life,'  and  that 
Professor  Tyndall  propounded  his  famous  suggestion  for  the 
establishment  of  a  prayerless  union  or  hospital  as  a  scientific 
method  for  testing  the  therapeutic  value  of  prayer.  Mr.  Frederic 
Harrison  chanted  in  its  pages  the  praises  of  the  Commune,  and 
prepared  the  old  ladies  of  both  sexes  for  the  imminent  advent 
of  an  English  Terror  by  his  plea  for  Trade  Unionism.  It  was 
in  the  Fortnightly  also  that  Mr.  Chamberlain  was  introduced  to 
the  world,  when  he  was  permitted  to  explain  his  proposals  for 
Free  Labour,  Free  Land,  Free  Education,  and  Free  Church.  Mr. 
Morley's  papers  on  the  heroes  and  saints  (Heaven  save  the 
mark!)  of  the  French  Revolution  appeared  here,  and  every  month 
in  an  editorial  survey  he  summed  up  the  leading  features  of  the 
progress  of  the  world." 

Since  Mr.  Morley's  retirement  in  1883,  the  editors  of 
the  Fortnightly  have  been  Mr.  T.  H.  S.  Escott  (1883-86), 
Mr.  Frank  Harris  (1886-94)  and  the  present  incumbent, 
Mr.  W.  L.  Courtney. 

The  Fortnightly  was  not  long  permitted  to  enjoy  un- 
disputed possession  of  the  field.  In  1866,  while  it  was 
still  published  semi-monthly,  the  Contemporary  Review 
was  launched.  Alexander  Strahan,  the  publisher,  selected 
Dean  Alford  as  its  editor  in  order  to  assure  a  more  re- 
served tone  than  that  of  its  popular  predecessor.  Al- 
though Liberal  in  politics,  like  the  Fortnightly,  it  assumed 
a  very  different  and  apparently  corrective  attitude  in  re- 
ligious matters.  Most  of  its  articles  for  many  years  were 
upon  theological  subjects  and  were  written  by  scholars 
comparatively  unknown  to  the  public.  The  gradual 
change  in  policy  furthered  by  its  later  editors,  especially 
Mr.  James  Knowles  and  Mr.  Percy  Bunting  has  brought 
the  Contemporary  nearer  to  the  general  type  of  popular 
monthlies.  Its  principles  seem  to  tend  toward  "  broad 
evangelical,  semi-socialistic  Liberalism." 


xxxvi  INTRODUCTION 

In  1877  Mr.  Knowles  found  it  impossible  to  conduct 
the  Contemporary  any  longer  in  the  independent  manner 
that  seemed  essential  to  him;  accordingly,  he  withdrew 
and  established  the  Nineteenth  Century,  which  in  defer- 
ence to  the  new  era  and  a  desire  to  be  abreast  of  the 
times,  recently  adopted  the  somewhat  awkward  title  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  and  After.  Like  the  Fortnightly, 
it  presented  a  brilliant  array  of  names  from  the  first.  The 
initial  number  contained  a  Prefatory  Sonnet  by  Tennyson, 
and  articles  by  Gladstone,  Matthew  Arnold,  Cardinal 
Manning,  and  the  Dean  of  Gloucester  and  Bristol.  It  is 
sufficient  to  state  that  this  standard  has  since  been  main- 
tained by  Mr.  Knowles  and  has  made  his  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury and  After  the  most  popular  of  the  monthlies. 

The  National  Review  (not  to  be  confounded  with 
Bagehot  and  Hutton's  quarterly  of  that  name)  is  the 
youngest  and  least  important  of  the  monthly  reviev/s.  It 
was  established  in  1883  as  a  Conservative  organ  under 
the  editorship  of  Mr.  Alfred  Austin  and  Professor  W.  J. 
Courthope.  Well-known  writers  have  contributed  to  its 
pages,  yet  it  has  never  assumed  a  place  of  first  importance 
in  the  periodical  world.  Its  present  editor  is  Mr.  Louis 
J.  Maxse. 

It  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  these  reviews  all  seek 
to  discuss  the  most  important  subjects  of  contemporary 
interest,  and  to  secure  the  services  of  writers  best  qualified 
to  treat  those  subjects.  In  the  narrow  sense  of  the  term, 
they  are  not  literary  reviews;  the  function  of  periodicals 
that  discuss  present  day  politics,  sociology,  theology,  his- 
tory, science,  art  and  numerous  other  generic  subjects  is 
more  inclusive  and  appeals  to  a  much  larger  audience 
than  the  periodical  of  literary  criticism.  In  the  quarterlies 
and  monthlies  we  look  for  the  most  authoritative  re- 
views of  the  important  books  of  the  day ;  but  for  general 


INTRODUCTION  xxxvii 

literary  review  and  gossip,  a  new  class  of  monthlies,  best 
represented  by  Dr.  Robertson  NicoU's  Bookman  (1891) 
and  the  American  Bookman  (1895)  and  The  Critic 
(1881)  has  appeared.  These  fill  a  gap  between  the  more 
substantial  monthlies  and  the  very  popular  weekly  papers. 

The  last-mentioned  class  was  practically  developed  dur- 
ing the  nineteenth  century.  The  frequency  of  publication 
forbade  a  strict  devotion  to  the  cause  of  belles-lettres; 
hence,  in  most  cases,  politics  or  music  and  art  were  in- 
cluded in  the  scheme.  At  first  literature  was  granted 
meagre  space  in  newspapers  of  the  Weekly  Register  and 
Examiner  type.  William  Cobbett,  profiting  by  his  pre- 
vious experience  with  Porcupine's  Gazette  and  the  Porcu- 
pine, began  his  Weekly  Political  Register  in  1802  and  con- 
tinued its  publication  until  his  death  in  1835.  I^  was  so 
thoroughly  political  in  character  that  it  hardly  merits 
recognition  as  a  literary  periodical.  The  Examiner,  begun 
in  1808  by  John  Hunt,  enjoyed  during  the  thirteen  years 
of  his  brother  Leigh's  cooperation  a  wide  reputation  for 
the  excellence  of  its  political  and  literary  criticism.  Under 
Albany  Fonblanque,  John  Forster  and  William  Minto  it 
continued  with  varying  success  until  1880. 

The  first  truly  literary  weekly  review  was  the  Literary 
Gazette,  established  in  18 17  by  Henry  Colburn,  of  the 
New  Monthly  Magazine,  under  the  joint  editorship  of 
Mr.  H.  E.  Lloyd  and  Miss  Ross.  After  the  first  half- 
year  of  its  existence,  Colburn  sold  a  third  share  to  the 
Messrs.  Longman  and  another  third  to  William  Jerdan, 
who  became  sole  editor  and  eventually  (1842)  sole  pro- 
prietor. The  original  price  of  a  shilling  was  soon  re- 
duced to  eight  pence.  Jerdan  set  the  prototype  for  later 
literary  weeklies  in  his  plan,  which  embraced  "  foreign 
and  domestic  correspondence,  critical  analyses  of  new 
publications,    varieties    connected   with    polite   literature, 


xxxviu  INTRODUCTION 

philosophical  researches,  scientific  inventions,  sketches  of 
society,  biographical  memoirs,  essays  on  fine  arts,  and 
miscellaneous  articles  on  drama,  music  and  literary  intelli- 
gence." Thus  Jerdan  followed  his  friend  Canning's 
advice  by  avoiding  "  politics  and  polemics  "  and  by  aim- 
ing to  present  "  a  clear  and  instructive  picture  of  the 
moral  and  literary  improvement  of  the  times,  and  a  com- 
plete and  authentic  chronological  literary  record  for  gen- 
eral reference."  He  secured  the  services  of  Crabbe,  Barry 
Cornwall,  Maginn,  Campbell,  Mrs,  Hemans  and  others : 
with  such  an  array  of  contributors  he  was  able  to  crush 
the  several  rival  weeklies  that  soon  entered  the  field. 

Toward  the  end  of  its  prosperous  first  decade,  how- 
ever, the  misfortunes  of  the  Literary  Gazette  began. 
Colburn's  publications  had  been  roughly  handled  in  its 
pages  and  he  accordingly  aided  James  Silk  Buckingham 
in  founding  the  Athencenm.  The  first  number  appeared 
on  January  2,  1828,  as  an  evident  rival  of  the  older 
weekly.  For  a  time  the  new  venture  was  on  the  verge 
of  failure  and  the  proprietors  actually  offered  to  sell  it 
to  Jerdan.  Within  half  a  year  Buckingham  was  suc- 
ceeded by  John  Sterling  as  editor.  Frederic  Denison 
Maurice's  friends  purchased  the  Literary  Chronicle  and 
Weekly  Reviezv  (begun  1819)  and  merged  it  with  the 
Athencenm  in  July,  1828.  For  a  year  Sterling  and 
Maurice  contributed  some  of  the  most  brilliant  critical 
articles  that  have  appeared  in  its  pages.  The  working 
editor  at  that  time  was  Henry  Stebbing  who  had  been 
associated  with  the  Athencenm  since  its  inception  and  who 
was  the  only  survivor*  of  the  original  staflf  when  the 
semi-centennial  number  was  published  on  January  5,  1878. 

Even  the  high  standards  set  by  Maurice  and  Sterling 

*  See  his  letter  in  AthencBiim,  January  19,  1878.     See  also  "  Ouil 
Seventieth  Birthday,"  Athenaum,  January  i,  1898. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxix 

failed  to  win  public  favor.  The  crisis  came  about  the 
middle  of  1830  when  Charles  Went  worth  Dilke  became 
"  supreme  editor,"  enlisted  Lamb,  George  Darley,  Barry 
Cornwall  and  others  on  his  staff,  and  reduced  the  price  of 
the  Athenceum  from  eightpence  to  fourpence.  The  appar- 
ent folly  of  reducing  the  price  and  increasing  the  ex- 
penses did  not  lead  to  the  generally  prophesied  collapse ; 
this  first  experiment  in  modern  methods  resulted  in  the 
rapid  growth  of  the  Athenaeum's  circulation,  to  the  serious 
detriment  of  the  Literary  Gazette.  Jerdan  tried  to  stem 
the  tide  by  publishing  lampoons  on  the  dullness  of  Dilke's 
paper;  but  when  the  Athenmim  was  enlarged  in  1835 
from  sixteen  to  twenty-four  pages  Dilke's  triumph  was 
evident.  The  Literary  Gazette  was  compelled  to  reduce 
its  price  to  fourpence  in  its  effort  to  regain  the  lost  sub- 
scriptions. Dilke  labored  earnestly  to  improve  his  paper 
and  when,  in  1846,  he  felt  that  it  was  established  on  a 
firm  basis,  he  made  Thomas  Kibble  Hervey  editor  and 
devoted  his  own  time  to  furthering  his  journalistic  enter- 
prises. However,  he  continued  to  contribute  to  the 
weekly ;  his  valuable  articles  on  Junius  and  Pope  together 
with  several  others  were  afterwards  reprinted  as  Papers 
of  a  Critic. 

Jerdan  withdrew  from  the  Literary  Gazette  in  1850. 
The  hopeless  struggle  with  the  Athenceum,  involving  a 
third  reduction  in  price  to  threepence,  lasted  until  1862, 
when  the  Gazette  was  incorporated  with  the  Parthenon 
and  came  to  an  end  during  the  following  year.  Hervey 
edited  the  Athenmim  until  1853  when  ill-health  necessi- 
tated his  resignation.  The  later  editors  include  William 
Hepworth  Dixon,  Norman  MacColl  and  at  present  Mr. 
Vernon  Rendall.  After  the  withdrawal  of  Dixon  in  1869 
a  reformation  in  the  staff  and  management  of  the  Athe- 
nmim took  place. 


xl  INTRODUCTION 

"  Some  old  writers  were  parted  with,  and  a  great  many  fresh 
contributors  were  found.  While  special  departments,  such  as 
science,  art,  music  and  the  drama,  were  of  necessity  entrusted  to 
regular  hands,  indeed,  the  reviewing  of  books,  now  more  than 
ever  the  principal  business  of  '  The  Athenaeum,'  was  distributed 
over  a  very  large  staff,  the  plan  being  to  assign  each  work  to  a 
writer  familiar  with  its  subject  and  competent  to  deal  with  it 
intelligently,  but  rigidly  to  exclude  personal  favouritism  or 
prejudice,  and  to  secure  as  much  impartiality  as  possible.  The 
rule  of  anonymity  has  been  more  carefully  observed  in  '  The 
Athenaeum '  than  in  most  other  papers.  Its  authority  as  a  liter- 
ary censor  is  not  lessened,  however,  and  is  in  some  respects  in- 
creased, by  the  fact  that  the  paper  itself,  and  not  any  particular 
critic  of  great  or  small  account,  is  responsible  for  the  verdicts 
passed  in  its  columns."     (Fox  Bourne.) 

Half  a  year  after  the  inception  of  the  Athenceum,  the 
first  number  of  the  Spectator  was  issued  (July  6,  1828) 
by  Robert  Stephen  Rintoul,  an  experienced  journalist  who 
had  launched  the  ill-fated  semi-political  Atlas  two  years 
before  and  therefore  decided  to  confine  his  new  venture 
to  literary  and  social  topics.  The  political  excitement  of 
the  time  soon  aroused  Rintoul's  interest,  and  he  under- 
took the  advocacy  of  the  Reform  Bill  with  all  possible 
ardor.  From  him  emanated  the  famous  battle-cry: 
"  The  Bill,  the  whole  Bill,  and  nothing  but  the  Bill."  He 
conducted  the  Spectator  with  great  skill  until  1858,  when 
he  sold  it  two  months  before  his  death.  Although  he 
wrote  little  for  its  pages,  Rintoul  made  the  Spectator  a 
power  in  furthering  all  reforms.  The  literary  standard, 
while  somewhat  obscured  for  a  time  by  its  politics,  was 
high.  In  1861  the  Spectator  passed  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Meredith  Townsend  who  sold  a  half  share  to  the  late 
Richard  Holt  Hutton  with  the  understanding  that  they 
should  act  as  political  and  literary  editors  respectively. 
During  the  four  years  of  the  American  Civil  War,  the 
Spectator  espoused  the  cause  of  the  North  and  was  con- 


INTRODUCTION  xli 

sequently  unpopular;  but  the  outcome  turned  the  senti- 
ment in  England  and  likewise  the  fortunes  of  the  Spec- 
tator. Hutton's  contributions  included  his  most  memor- 
able utterances  upon  theological  and  literary  subjects.  In 
the  midst  of  religious  controversy  he  was  able  to  discuss 
delicate  questions  without  giving  offense,  to  enlist  all 
parties  by  refraining  from  expressed  allegiance  to  one. 
The  Spectator  of  Hutton's  day  was,  in  Mrs.  Oliphant's 
opinion,  "  specially  distinguished  by  the  thoughtful  tone 
of  its  writing,  the  almost  Quixotic  fairness  of  its  judg- 
ments, and  the  profoundly  religious  spirit  which  pervades 
its  more  serious  articles."  Hutton  retired  shortly  before 
his  death  in  1897.  The  present  editor  is  Mr.  J.  St.  Loe 
Strachey. 

The  Saturday  Review  was  established  in  November, 
1855.  by  A.  J.  Beresford  Hope.  Its  first  editor  was 
John  Douglass  Cook,  who  had  indexed  the  early  volumes 
of  the  Quarterly  for  Murray  and  had  gained  his  jour- 
nalistic experience  with  the  Times  and  the  Morning 
Chronicle.  Though  possessed  of  no  great  personal  ability, 
Cook  had  the  useful  editorial  faculty  of  recognizing 
talent,  and  consequently  gathered  about  himself  the  most 
promising  writers  of  the  younger  generation,  including, 
among  others,  Robert  Talbot  Cecil,  the  late  Lord  Salis- 
bury. The  Saturday  Review  at  once  became  the  most 
influential  and  most  energetic  of  the  weekly  papers.  Its 
politics,  independent  at  first,  later  assumed  a  pronounced 
Conservative  complexion.  Cook  remained  editor  until 
his  death  (1868)  when  he  was  succeeded  by  his  assistant, 
Philip  Harwood.  Since  the  latter's  retirement  in  1883 
the  more  recent  editors  include  Mr.  Walter  H.  Pollock, 
Mr.  Frank  Harris  and  the  present  incumbent,  Mr,  Harold 
Hodge.  Professor  Saintsbury  wrote  of  the  Saturday 
Review: 


xlii  INTRODUCTION 

"  Its  staff  was,  as  a  rule,  recruited  from  the  two  Universities 
(though  there  was  no  kind  of  exclusion  for  the  unmatriculated ; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  neither  of  its  first  two  editors  was  a  son 
either  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge),  and  it  always  insisted  on  the 
necessity  of  classical  culture.  ...  It  observed,  for  perhaps  a 
longer  time  than  any  other  paper,  the  salutary  principles  of 
anonymity  (real  as  well  as  ostensible)  in  regard  to  the  author- 
ship of  particular  articles ;  and  those  who  knew  were  constantly 
amused  at  the  public  mistakes  on  this  subject." 

Such  "  salutary  principles  of  anonymity "  were  not 
observed  by  the  Academy,  a  Monthly  Record  of  Litera- 
ture, Learning,  Science  and  Art,  which  began  to  appear 
in  October,  1869,  and  was  published  for  a  short  time  by 
John  Murray.  Its  founder,  Dr.  Charles  E.  Appleton, 
edited  the  Academy  until  his  death  in  1879.  All  the 
leading  articles  bore  the  authors'  signatures,  and,  follow- 
ing the  example  of  the  more  ambitious  monthlies.  Dr. 
Appleton  secured  the  best  known  writers  as  contributors. 
The  first  number  opened  with  an  interesting  unpublished 
letter  of  Lord  Byron's ;  its  literary  articles  were  by 
Matthew  Arnold,  Gustave  Masson  and  Mr.  Sidney  Colvin, 
theology  was  representd  by  the  Rev.  T.  K.  Cheyne  and  J. 
B.  Lightfoot  (later  Bishop  of  Durham), science  by  Thomas 
Huxley  and  Sir  John  Lubbock  (now  Lord  Avebury), 
and  classical  learning  by  Mark  Pattison  and  John  Con- 
ington.  This  remarkable  array  of  names  did  not  di- 
minish in  subsequent  numbers.  Besides  those  mentioned 
Mr.  W.  M.  Rossetti,  Max  Miiller,  G.  Maspero,  J.  A. 
Symonds,  F.  T.  Palgrave  and  others  contributed  to  the 
first  volume.  Later  such  names  as  William  Morris,  John 
Tyndall,  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti,  Walter  Pater  and  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  appeared  in  its  pages. 

In  spite  of  its  brilliant  program,  the  size  of  the  Acad- 
emy, even  at  its  price  of  sixpence,  was  too  slight  to  rank 
as  a  monthly.     After  four  years'  experience,  first  as  a 


INTRODUCTION  xliii 

monthly,  then  as  a  fortnightly,  it  became  and  has  re- 
mained a  weekly.  The  editorial  succession  since  the 
death  of  Dr.  Appleton  has  been  C.  E.  Doble  (1879-81)  ; 
Mr.  James  Sutherland  Cotton  (1881-96)  ;  Mr.  C.  Lewis 
Hind  (1896-1903)  ;  and  Mr.  W.  Teignmouth  Shore.  The 
issue  of  November  7,  1896,  announced  Mr.  Cotton's  re- 
tirement and  the  inauguration  of  a  new  policy,  which,  in 
addition  to  technical  improvements,  promised  the  issue 
of  occasional  supplements  of  a  purely  academic  and  edu- 
cational character,  and  the  beginning  of  the  series  of 
Academy  Portraits  of  men  of  letters.  At  the  same  time 
the  publication  of  signed  articles  was  abolished  and  the 
Academy  remained  anonymous  until  the  recent  editorial 
change.  A  new  departure  in  October,  1898,  made  the 
Academy  an  illustrated  paper — the  most  attractive  though 
not  the  most  authoritative  of  the  weeklies.  It  has  de- 
parted widely  from  the  set  traditions  of  Dr.  Appleton, 
but  most  readers  will  agree  that  the  departure  has  been 
justified  by  the  needs  of  the  hour.  There  is  small  satis- 
faction in  reading  a  one-page  review  from  the  pen  of  an 
Arnold  or  a  Pater;  we  feel  that  such  authorities  should 
express  themselves  at  length  in  the  pages  of  the  literary 
monthlies ;  that  the  reader  of  the  weekly  should  be  con- 
tent with  the  anonymous  (and  less  expensive)  review 
written  by  the  stafif-critic.  Whatever  the  personal  bias,  it 
is  at  least  certain  that  under  present  conditions  the  Acad- 
emy appeals  more  generally  to  the  popular  taste.  Its 
recent  absorption  of  a  younger  periodical  is  indicated  in 
the  compounding  of  its  title  into  the  Academy  and  Litera- 
ture— a  change  that  does  not  commend  itself  on  abstract 
grounds  of  literary  fitness  and  tradition. 

A  consideration  of  periodicals  of  the  Tatler,  Spectator 
and  Rambler  class  evidently  lies  beyond  our  present 
purpose;  though  Addison's  papers  on  Paradise  Lost  and 


xliv  INTRODUCTION 

similar  articles  show  an  occasional  critical  intent.  The 
magazines,  however,  have  in  various  instances  shown  such 
an  extensive  interest  in  matters  literary  that  a  brief 
account  of  their  development  will  not  be  amiss.  The 
primary  distinction  between  the  review  and  the  magazine 
is  well  understood ;  the  former  criticizes,  the  latter  en- 
tertains. Hence  fiction,  poetry  and  essays  are  better 
adapted  than  book-reviews  to  the  needs  of  the  literary 
magazine.  As  already  stated,  Peter  Motteux's  Gentle- 
man's Journal  (1692-94)  probably  deserves  recognition 
as  the  first  English  magazine,  though  its  brief  career  is 
forgotten  in  the  honor  accorded  to  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  established  in  173 1  by  Edward  Cave  and 
which,  still  under  the  editorship  of  "  Sylvanus  Urban, 
Gentleman,"  is  now  approaching  its  three  hundredth  vol- 
ume. In  the  early  days  its  lists  of  births,  deaths,  mar- 
riages, bankrupts,  events,  etc.,  must  have  made  it  a  use- 
ful summary  for  the  public.  In  literature  it  printed 
merely  a  "  Register  of  New  Books  "  without  comment  of 
any  sort.  It  is  exasperating  to  find  such  books  as  Pamela 
or  Tom  Jones  listed  among  "  New  Publications  "  without 
a  word  of  criticism  or  commendation.  We  could  spare 
whole  reams  of  pages  devoted  to  "  Army  Promotions  " 
and  "  Monthly  Chronicle "  for  a  few  lines  of  literary 
review. 

Although  the  booksellers  refused  to  aid  Cave  in  estab- 
lishing his  magazine,  the  demonstration  of  its  success 
brought  forth  numerous  rivals.  As  they  all  followed 
Cave's  precedent  in  ignoring  literary  criticism,  it  will 
suffice  to  mention  merely  the  names  of  the  London  Maga- 
zine (1732-79)  ;  the  Scots  Magazine  (1739-1817),  con- 
tinued as  the  Edinburgh  Magazine  until  1826;  the  Uni- 
versal Magazine  (1743-1815)  ;  the  British  Magazine 
(1746-50)  ;  the  Royal  Magazine  (1759-71)  ;  and  finally 


INTRODUCTION  xlv 

the  British  Magazine,  or  Monthly  Repository  for  Gentle- 
men and  Ladies  (1760-67)  edited  by  Tobias  Smollett, 
who  published  his  Sir  Lanncelot  Greaves  in  its  pages — 
perhaps  the  first  instance  of  the  serial  publication  of 
fiction.  Goldsmith  wrote  some  of  his  most  interesting 
essays  for  Smollett's  magazine. 

An  important  addition  to  the  ranks  was  the  Monthly 
Magazine  begun  in  1796  by  Sir  Richard  Phillips  under 
the  editorship  of  John  Aikin.  The  principal  contributor 
was  William  Taylor  of  Norwich  who,  during  a  period  of 
thirty  years,  supplied  to  the  Monthly  Magazine  and  other 
periodicals  a  series  of  1,750  articles  of  remarkable  quality. 
His  contributions  gave  the  Magazine  standing  as  a  liter- 
ary review.  Hazlitt  accorded  to  Taylor  the  honor  of 
writing  the  first  reviews  in  the  style  afterwards  adopted 
by  the  Edinburgh  Reviewers,  which  established  their  repu- 
tations as  original  and  impartial  critics.  He  is  remem- 
bered to-day  as  the  author  of  an  unread  Historic  Survey 
of  German  Poetry  which  was  vigorously  assailed  by  Car- 
lyle  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  The  Nezv  Monthly  Maga- 
zine was  started  in  1814  by  Henry  Colburn  and  Frederick 
Shoberl  in  opposition  to  Phillips'  magazine.  Its  first 
editors  were  Dr.  Watkins  and  Alaric  A.  Watts.  At  a 
later  time  Campbell,  Bulwer,  Theodore  Hook  and  Harri- 
son Ainsworth  successively  assumed  charge.  Under  such 
capable  direction  the  magazine  naturally  won  a  promi- 
nent place  among  the  periodicals  of  the  day.  During  its 
later  years  the  New  Monthly  was  obscured  by  more 
ambitious  ventures  and  came  to  an  inglorious  end  in 
1875 — thirty-two  years  after  the  suspension  of  Phillips' 
Monthly  Magazine. 

A  most  significant  event  in  the  history  of  the  magazine 
was  the  founding  of  the  Edinburgh  Monthly  Magazine  in 
April,  181 7,  by  William  Blackwood.  The  new  magazine 
3 


xlvi  INTRODUCTION 

was  projected  to  counteract  the  influence  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  but  under  its  first  editors,  James  Cleghorn 
and  Thomas  Pringle,  it  failed  to  win  favor.  After  six 
numbers  were  issued,  a  final  disagreement  between  Black- 
wood and  the  editors  resulted  in  the  withdrawal  of  the 
latter.  The  name  of  the  monthly  was  changed  to  Black- 
wood's Edinburgh  Magazine — popularly  Blackwood's  or 
"  Maga  " — and  henceforth  until  his  death  Blackwood  was 
his  own  editor.  John  Wilson  (Christopher  North)  and 
John  Gibson  Lockhart,  the  most  important  of  the  early 
contributors  to  Blackwood's,  published  in  that  famous 
seventh  number  the  clever  Chaldee  Manuscript — an  au- 
dacious satire  upon  the  original  editors,  the  rival  publisher 
Constable,  the  Edinburgh  Review  and  various  literary 
personages  under  a  thinly  veiled  allegory  in  apocalyptic 
style.  It  at  once  attracted  wide  attention  (including  a 
costly  action  for  libel  within  a  fortnight)  and  was  sup- 
pressed in  the  second  impression  of  the  number.  The 
same  number  of  Blackwood's  set  the  precedent  for  the 
subsequent  critical  vituperation  that  made  the  magazine 
notorious.  It  contained  an  abusive  article  on  Coleridge's 
Biographia  Literaria  and  the  first  of  a  series  of  virulent 
attacks  on  "  The  Cockney  School  of  Poetry."  Much  of 
the  literary  criticism  in  the  first  few  volumes  is  inexcus- 
ably brutal ;  fortunately,  Blackwood's  soon  became  less 
rampant  in  its  critical  outbursts.  The  cooperation  of 
James  Hogg  and  the  ill-fated  Maginn  introduced  new 
articles  of  varied  interest,  particularly  the  witty  letters  and 
the  parodies  of  "  Ensign  O'Doherty."  Wilson's  Nodes 
Ambrosiance  became  a  characteristic  feature  of  Black- 
wood's; John  Gait  and  Susan  Ferrier  won  popularity 
among  the  novel  readers  of  the  day ;  and  in  the  trenchant 
literary  criticism  of  Lockhart,  Wilson,  Hogg  and  their 
confreres    an    equally    high    standard    was    maintained. 


INTRODUCTION  xlvii 

After  the  death  of  the  elder  Blackwood  in  1834,  the 
management  of  the  magazine  passed  to  his  sons  suc- 
cessively. John  Blackwood,  the  sixth  son,  enjoyed 
the  distinction  of  "  discovering  "  George  Eliot  and  be- 
ginning, by  the  publication  of  her  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life 
in  1857,  a  relationship  that  was  both  pleasant  and  profit- 
able to  the  firm.  A  few  years  earlier  appeared  the  first 
contributions  of  another  remarkable  literary  woman — Mrs. 
Margaret  Oliphant,  whose  association  with  Blackwood's 
lasted  over  forty  years.  Her  history  of  the  house  of 
Blackwood    was    published    in    the    year    of    her    death 

(1897). 

Blackwood's  is  still  a  strong  conservative  organ.  The 
already  quoted  Index  of  the  Review  of  Reviezvs  says  of 
it :  "  With  a  rare  consistency  it  has  contrived  to  appear 
for  over  three  score  years  and  ten  as  a  spirited  and  defiant 
advocate  of  all  those  who  are  at  least  five  years  behind 
their  time.  Sometimes  Blackwood  is  fifty  years  in  the 
rear,  but  that  is  a  detail  of  circumstance.  Five  or  fifty, 
it  does  not  matter,  so  long  as  it  is  well  in  the  rear."  Such 
gentle  sarcasm  merely  emphasizes  the  fact  that  Black- 
wood's has  always  aimed  to  be  more  than  a  magazine  of 
belles-lettres.  The  publishers  celebrated  the  appearance 
of  the  one  thousandth  number  in  February,  1899,  by 
almost  doubhng  its  size  to  a  volume  of  three  hundred 
pages,  including  a  latter-day  addition  to  the  Noctes 
Ambrosiance  and  other  features. 

An  important  though  short-lived  venture  was  the  Lon- 
don Magazine,  begun  in  January,  1820,  under  the  editor- 
ship of  John  Scott.  By  its  editorial  assaults  upon  the 
Blackwood  criticisms  of  the  "  Cockney  School,"  it  became 
the  recognized  champion  of  that  loosely  defined  coterie. 
The  initial  attack  in  the  May  number  was  further  empha- 
sized by  more  vigorous  articles  in  November  and  Decem- 


xlviii  INTRODUCTION 

ber  of  1820,  and  January,  1821.  Lockhart,  who  was  the 
recipient  of  the  worst  abuse,  demanded  of  Scott  an 
apology  or  a  hostile  meeting.  The  outcome  of  the  con- 
troversy was  a  duel  on  February  i6th  between  Scott  and 
Lockhart's  intimate  friend,  Jonathan  Henry  Christie. 
Scott  was  mortally  wounded,  and  died  within  a  fortnight ; 
the  verdict  of  wilful  murder  brought  against  Christie  and 
his  second  at  the  inquest  resulted  in  their  trial  and 
acquittal  at  the  old  Bailey  two  months  later.  It  would 
have  been  well  for  the  London  Magazine  and  for  litera- 
ture in  general  if  that  unfortunate  duel  could  have  been 
prevented  or  at  least  diverted  into  such  a  ludicrous  affair 
as  the  meeting  between  Jeffrey  and  Tom  Moore  in 
1806. 

The  most  famous  contributions  to  the  London  Maga- 
zine during  Scott's  regime  were  Lamb's  Essays  of  Elia. 
Those  charming  productions,  now  ranked  among  our 
dearly  treasured  classics,  were  not  received  at  first  with 
universal  approbation.  The  long  and  justly  forgotten 
Alaric  A.  Watts  said  of  them :  "  Charles  Lamb  delivers 
himself  with  infinite  pain  and  labour  of  a  silly  piece  of 
trifling,  every  month,  in  this  Magazine,  under  the  signa- 
ture of  Elia.  It  is  the  curse  of  the  Cockney  School  that, 
with  all  their  desire  to  appear  exceedingly  off-hand  and 
ready  with  all  they  have  to  say,  they  are  constrained  to 
elaborate  every  sentence,  as  though  the  web  were  woven 
from  their  own  bowels.  Charles  Lamb  says  he  can  make 
no  way  in  an  article  under  at  least  a  week."  In  July, 
1821,  the  London  Magazine  was  purchased  by  Taylor  and 
Hessey.  Although  Thomas  Hood  was  made  working- 
editor,  the  Blackwood  idea  of  retaining  editorial  super- 
vision in  the  firm  was  followed.  Within  a  few  months 
De  Quincey  contributed  his  Confessions  of  an  English 
Opium-Eater — the  most  famous  of  all  the  articles  that 


INTRODUCTION  xlix 

appeared  in  the  magazine.  Lamb*  and  De  Quincey  con- 
tinued to  write  for  the  magazine  for  several  years.  Other 
contributors,  especially  of  literary  criticism,  were  Barry 
Cornwall,  Carlyle,  Hazlitt,  Henry  Gary  and,  toward  the 
end,  Walter  Savage  Landor.  The  magazine  became  less 
conspicuous  after  1824  and  dragged  out  an  obscure  ex- 
istence until  1829;  but  it  is  probable  that  no  other  period- 
ical achieved  the  standard  of  purely  literary  excellence 
represented  by  the  London  Magazine  during  the  first  five 
years  of  its  existence. 

In  February,  1830,  James  Fraser  published  the  first 
number  of  Fraser's  Magazine  for  Town  and  Country. 
The  magazine  was  not  named  after  the  publisher  but  after 
its  sponsor,  Hugh  Fraser,  a  "  briefless  barrister "  and 
man  about  town.  The  latter  enlisted  the  aid  of  Maginn 
who  had  severed  his  connection  with  Blackwood's  in  1828. 
In  general,  Fraser's  was  modelled  upon  Blackwood's;  but 
a  unique  and  popular  feature  was  the  publication  of  the 
"  Gallery  of  Illustrious  Literary  Characters "  between 
1830-38.  This  famous  series  of  eighty-one  caricature 
portraits  chiefly  by  Daniel  Maclise,  with  letter-press  by 
Maginn,  has  been  made  accessible  to  present-day  readers 
in  William  Bates'  Maclise  Portrait  Gallery  (1883)  where 
much  illustrative  material  has  been  added  to  the  original 
articles.  It  is  evident  that  the  literary  standard  of 
Fraser's  soon  equalled  and  possibly  surpassed  that  of 
Blackwood's.  Among  its  writers  were  Carlyle  (who  con- 
tributed a  critique  to  the  first  number,  published  Sartor 
Resartiis  in  its  pages,  1833-35,  ^^id,  as  late  as  1875,  his 
Early  Kings  of  Norway),  Thackeray,  Father  Prout  and 
Thomas  Love  Peacock.     Maclise's  plate  of  "  The  Fraser- 


*  Mr.  Bertram  Dobell  in  his  Side-Lights  on  Charles  Lamb  (1903) 
directs  attention  to  some  hitherto  unknown  articles  of  Lamb's  in 
the  London  Magazine. 


1  INTRODUCTION 

ians  "  also  includes  Allan  Cunningham,  Theodore  Hook, 
William  Jerdan,  Lockhart,  Hogg,  Coleridge,  Southey  and 
several  others.  It  is  unlikely  that  all  of  them  wrote  much 
for  Fraser's;  but  the  staff  was  undoubtedly  a  brilliant 
assemblage.  James  Anthony  Froude  became  editor  in 
i860  and  was  assisted  for  a  time  by  Charles  Kingsley  and 
Sir  Theodore  Martin.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  sub- 
editor, William  Allingham,  during  whose  administration 
(1874-79)  the  fortunes  of  Fraser's  suffered  a  decline. 
The  gradual  failure  was  due  to  the  competition  of  the 
new  shilling  magazines  rather  than  to  incompetence  on 
the  part  of  the  editor.  The  end  came  in  October,  1882, 
when  Fraser's  was  succeeded  by  Longman's  Magazine 
which  is  still  in  progress. 

The  magazines  established  soon  after  Fraser's  fol- 
lowed for  the  most  part  a  policy  that  demands  for  them 
mere  passing  mention  in  the  present  connection.  Literary 
criticism  and  reviews  were  largely  abandoned  in  favor  of 
lighter  and  more  entertaining  material.  The  Dublin  Uni- 
versity Magazine  (1833-80)  and  Tail's  Edinburgh  Maga- 
zine (1832-61)  best  represent  the  transitional  stage. 
During  its  early  history,  the  latter  employed  prominent 
contributors,  who  gave  it  an  important  position.  Such 
magazines  as  the  Metropolitan  (1831-50)  and  Bentley's 
Miscellany  (1837-68)  set  the  standards  for  similar 
periodicals  since  that  time.  Charles  Dickens'  experience 
with  Bentley's  led  to  the  publication  of  his  weeklies. 
Household  Words  (1850  to  date)  and  All  the  Year  Round 
(1859),  which  was  incorporated  in  1895  with  the  former. 
Macmillan's  Magazine,  first  of  the  popular  shilling 
monthlies,  began  in  1859  and  was  soon  followed  by 
Thackeray's  Cornhill  Magazine  (i860)  and  Temple  Bar 
(i860).  All  of  these  magazines  are  still  in  progress. 
The  occasional  publication  of  an  article  by  a  literary  critic 


INTRODUCTION  li 

hardly  justifies  their  inclusion  vv^ithin  the  category  of 
critical  reviews,  as  their  essential  purpose  is  to  instruct 
and  entertain,  rather  than  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  con- 
temporary letters. 

There  are  in  course  of  publication  to-day  numerous 
literary  periodicals  of  varying  scope  and  importance 
that  have  not  even  been  mentioned  by  title  in  our  hasty 
survey.  Enough  has  been  said,  however,  to  give  some 
idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  field,  and  to  show  that  most 
of  the  great  names  of  modern  English  literature  have  been 
more  or  less  closely  associated  with  the  history  of  the 
literary  reviews.  Those  reviews  have  usually  sought  to 
foster  all  that  is  highest  and  best  in  our  intellectual  de- 
velopment ;  and  although  English  literary  criticism  has 
been,  on  the  whole,  less  convincing,  less  brilliant  and  less 
authoritative  than  that  of  France,  it  has  during  the  past 
century  set  a  fairly  high  standard  of  excellence.  It  seems 
difficult  to  understand  why  the  literary  conditions  in  Eng- 
land, instead  of  developing  critics  like  Sainte-Beuve, 
Gaston  Paris,  Brunetiere  and  others  whose  utterances 
redound  to  the  lasting  glory  of  French  criticism,  should 
be  steadily  tending  toward  a  lower  and  less  influential 
level.  Mr.  Churton  ColHns  in  his  pessimistic  discussion 
of  "  The  Present  Functions  of  Criticism  "  deplores  the 
spirit  of  tolerance  and  charity  manifested  toward  the 
mediocre  productions  of  contemporary  writers ;  he  at- 
tributes the  degradation  of  criticism  to  the  lack  of  critical 
standards  and  principles,  and  indirectly  to  the  neglect  of 
the  study  of  literature  at  the  English  Universities.  The 
plea  for  an  English  Academy  has  been  made  at  different 
times  and  with  different  ends  in  view,  but  under  modern 
conditions  such  an  institution  would  hardly  solve  the 
problem.  Mr.  Collins  shows  how  the  intellectual  aris- 
tocracy of  the  past  has  been  superseded  by  the  present 


lii  INTRODUCTION 

omnivorous  reading-public  afflicted  with  a  perpetual  crav- 
ing for  literary  novelty.  The  inevitable  rapidity  of  pro- 
duction results  in  a  deluge  of  poor  books  which  are  foisted 
upon  readers  by  a  "  detestable  system  of  mutual  pufifery." 
This  condition  of  affairs  naturally  offers  few  opportunities 
for  the  development  of  critical  ideals ;  but  it  hardly  applies 
to  the  incorruptible  reviews  of  recognized  standing.  The 
reasons  for  the  lack  of  authority  in  modern  English  criti- 
cism are  more  deeply  grounded  in  an  inherent  objection  to 
the  restraint  imposed  upon  an  artist  by  artificial  canons  of 
taste,  and  in  a  well-founded  impression  that  many  of  the 
greatest  literary  achievements  evince  a  violation  of  such 
canons. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  criticism  is  thereby  dis- 
dained and  disregarded.  The  critical  dicta  of  a  Dryden 
or  a  Johnson,  a  Coleridge  or  a  Hazlitt,  and,  more  recently, 
an  Arnold  or  a  Pater,  are  valued  and  studied  because  they 
emphasize  the  vital  elements  essential  to  the  proper  appre- 
ciation of  a  literary  product ;  and,  moreover,  because  such 
critics,  in  transcending  the  limitations  of  their  kind,  estab- 
lish higher  and  juster  standards  for  the  criticism  of  the 
future.  On  the  other  hand,  the  great  majority  of  critical 
utterances  must  necessarily  be  ephemeral ;  they  may  exert 
considerable  contemporary  influence,  but  are  usually  for- 
gotten long  before  the  works  that  called  them  forth. 
Unless  this  criticism  is  more  than  a  perfunctory  examina- 
tion of  the  merits  and  defects  of  the  work  under  con- 
sideration, it  cannot  endure  beyond  its  own  brief  day. 

Several  fruitless  attempts  have  been  made  to  reduce 
criticism  to  an  exact  science,  which,  quite  disregarding 
the  factor  of  personal  taste,  could  refer  all  literature  to  a 
more  or  less  fixed  and  arbitrary  set  of  critical  principles. 
The  champions  of  this  objective  criticism  point  to  the 
occasionally  ludicrous  divergence  of  the  views  expressed 


INTRODUCTION  liii 

in  criticism  of  certain  poets  or  novelists,  and  insist  that 
there  is  no  occasion  for  such  a  bewildering  diflference  of 
opinion.  They  seem  to  forget  that  the  criticism  which  we 
esteem  most  highly  at  all  times  is  the  subjective  criticism 
in  which  the  personality  of  a  competent  and  sincere  critic 
is  manifest.  Literature,  like  music,  painting  and  the  other 
arts,  has  its  own  laws  of  technique — fundamental  canons 
that  must  be  observed  in  the  successful  pursuit  of  the  art; 
but  at  a  certain  point  difference  of  opinion  is  not  only 
possible  but  profitable.  The  critics  who  would  unite  in 
condemning  a  thirteen-line  sonnet  or  a  ten-act  tragedy 
could  not  be  expected  to  agree  on  the  relative  merits  of 
Milton's  and  Wordsworth's  sonnets.  Unanimity  of  opin- 
ion is  as  impossible  and  undesirable  concerning  the  poetic 
achievement  of  Browning  and  Whitman  as  it  is  concern- 
ing the  music  of  Brahms  and  Wagner,  or  the  painting  of 
Turner  and  Whistler.  Great  artists  who  have  taken 
liberties  with  traditions  and  precedents  have  done  much 
to  prevent  the  critics  from  falling  into  a  state  of  self- 
complacency  over  their  scientific  methods  and  formulas. 

The  most  helpful  form  of  criticism  is  the  interpretative 
variety ,  not  necessarily  the  laudatory  "  appreciation  "  that 
is  so  popular  in  our  day,  but  an  honest  effort  to  under- 
stand and  elucidate  the  intention  of  the  writer.  The 
proper  exercise  of  this  art  occasionally  demands  rare  quali- 
fications on  the  part  of  the  critic ;  at  the  same  time  it 
adds  dignity  to  his  calling  and  value  to  his  utterance.  It 
serves  to  dispel  the  popular  conception  of  a  critic  as  a 
disappointed  litterateur  who  begrudges  his  more  brilliant 
fellow  craftsmen  their  success  and  who  dogs  their 
triumphs  with  his  ill-tempered  snarling.  Interpretative 
criticism  needs  few  rules  and  no  system;  yet  it  serves  a 
noble  purpose  as  a  guide  and  monitor  for  subsequent  liter- 
ary effort. 


liv  INTRODUCTION 

The  question  of  anonymous  criticism  has  occasioned 
much  thoughtful  discussion.  In  former  times  anonymity 
was  often  a  shield  for  the  slanderer  who  saw  fit  to 
abuse  and  assail  his  victim  with  the  rancorous  outburst  of 
his  malice;  but  it  is  also  clear  that  the  earlier  reviewers 
were  mere  literary  hacks  whose  names  would  have  given 
no  weight  to  the  critique  and  hence  could  be  omitted  with- 
out much  loss.  The  authorship  of  important  Edinburgh 
and  Quarterly*  articles  in  the  days  of  their  greatness  was 
usually  an  open  secret.  Later  periodicals,  like  the  Fort- 
nightly and  the  Academy  found  it  a  profitable  advertise- 
ment to  publish  the  signatures  of  their  eminent  critics. 
The  tendency  of  the  present  day  is  largely  in  favor  of 
anonymity ;  no  longer  as  a  cover  for  the  dispensation  of 
malicious  vituperation,  but  as  a  necessary  safe-guard  for 
the  unbiased  and  untrammeled  exercise  of  the  critical 
function.  Certain  abuses  of  the  privilege  are  inevitable. 
Mr.  Sidney  Colvin  in  looking  over  the  criticisms  of  Mr. 
Stephen  Phillips'  poetry  recently  discovered  in  three 
periodicals  convincing  parallels  that  led  Mr.  Arthur 
Symons  to  confess  to  the  authorship  of  all  three  critiques. 
The  average  reader  would  in  most  cases  be  strongly  in- 
fluenced by  the  united  verdict  of  the  critics  of  the  Satur- 
day Review,  the  Atheu^rum  and  the  Quarterly  Review; 
in  this  instance  his  convictions  would  undoubtedly  be 
rudely  shattered  when  he  learned  the  truth.  Under  such 
conditions  anonymous  criticism  is  a  menace,  not  an  aid 
to  the  reader's  judgment. 

In  conclusion,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  criticism 
is  not  an  end  but  a  means  to  an  end.     All  the  literary 


*  In  July,  1902,  the  Quarterly  Review  published  its  first  signed 
article — the  widely-discussed  paper  on  Charles  Dickens  by  Mr.  Alger- 
non Charles  Swinburne.  Since  then  several  other  noteworthy 
articles  have  appeared   over  the  authors'   signatures. 


INTRODUCTION  Iv 

criticism  ever  uttered  would  be  useless  as  such  if  it  did 
not  evince  a  desire  to  further  the  development  of  literary 
art.  The  Iliad  and  the  CEdipus  were  written  long  before 
Aristotle's  Poetics,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  either  Homer 
or  Sophocles  would  have  been  a  greater  poet  if  he  could 
have  read  the  Stagirite's  treatise.  Yet  the  Poetics,  as  a 
summary  of  the  essential  features  of  that  art,  served  an 
important  purpose  in  later  ages  and  exerted  far-reaching 
influences.  Criticism  in  all  ages  has  necessarily  been  of 
less  importance  than  art  itself — it  guides  and  suggests,  but 
cannot  create.  Literary  history  shows  that  true  criticism 
must  be  in  conformity  with  the  spirit  of  the  age ;  it  cannot 
oppose  the  trend  of  intelligent  opinion.  It  may  praise, 
censure,  advise,  interpret — but  it  will  always  remain  sub- 
servient to  the  art  that  called  it  forth.  There  is  no  reason 
to  believe  that  criticism  can  ever  be  established  in  the 
English-speaking  world  upon  a  basis  that  will  subject 
to  an  arbitrary  and  irrevocable  ruling  the  form  and  spirit 
of  the  artist's  message  to  mankind. 


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EARLY   REVIEWS   OF   ENGLISH    POETS 


Thomas  Gray 


ODES.     By  Air.  Gray.    4to.     is.    Dodsley. 

As  this  publication  seems  designed  for  those  who  have 
formed  their  taste  by  the  models  of  antiquity,  the  gener- 
ality of  Readers  cannot  be  supposed  adequate  Judges  of 
its  merit ;  nor  will  the  Poet,  it  is  presumed,  be  greatly  dis- 
appointed if  he  finds  them  backward  in  commending  a 
performance  not  entirely  suited  to  their  apprehensions. 
We  cannot,  however,  without  some  regret  behold  those 
talents  so  capable  of  giving  pleasure  to  all,  exerted  in 
efforts  that,  at  best,  can  amuse  only  the  few;  we  cannot 
behold  this  rising  Poet  seeking  fame  among  the  learned, 
without  hinting  to  him  the  same  advice  that  Isocrates  used 
to  give  his  Scholars,  Study  the  People.  This  study  it  is 
that  has  conducted  the  great  Masters  of  antiquity  up  to 
immortality.  Pindar  himself,  of  whom  our  modern  Lyrist 
is  an  imitator,  appears  entirely  guided  by  it.  He  adapted 
his  works  exactly  to  the  dispositions  of  his  countrymen. 
Irregular  [,]  enthusiastic,  and  quick  in  transition, — ^he  wrote 
for  a  people  inconstant,  of  warm  imaginations  and  ex- 
quisite sensibility.  He  chose  the  most  popular  subjects, 
and  all  his  allusions  are  to  customs  well  known,  in  his 
day,  to  the  meanest  person.* 

*  The  best  Odes  of  Pindar  are  said  to  be  those  which  have  been 
destroyed  by  time ;  and  even  they  were  seldom  recited  among  the 
Greeks,  without  the  adventitious  ornaments  of  music  and  dancing. 
Our  Lyric  Odes  are  seldom  set  off  with  these  advantages,  which, 
trifling  as  they  seem,  have  alone  given  immortality  to  the  works  of 
Quinault. 

4  I 


2  THE   MONTHLY   REVIEW 

His  English  Imitator  wants  those  advantages.  He 
speaks  to  a  people  not  easily  impressed  with  new  ideas; 
extremely  tenacious  of  the  old ;  with  difficulty  warmed ; 
and  as  slowly  cooling  again. — How  unsuited  then  to  our 
national  character  is  that  species  of  poetry  which  rises 
upon  us  with  unexpected  flights !  Where  we  must  hastily 
catch  the  thought,  or  it  flies  from  us ;  and,  in  short,  where 
the  Reader  must  largely  partake  of  the  Poet's  enthusiasm, 
in  order  to  taste  his  beauties.  To  carry  the  parallel  a  little 
farther;  the  Greek  Poet  wrote  in  a  language  the  most 
proper  that  can  be  imagined  for  this  species  of  composi- 
tion; lofty,  harmonious,  and  never  needing  rhyme  to 
heighten  the  numbers.  But,  for  us,  several  unsuccessful 
experiments  seem  to  prove  that  the  English  cannot  have 
Odes  in  blank  Verse ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  a  natural 
imperfection  attends  those  which  are  composed  in  irreg- 
ular rhymes : — the  similar  sound  often  recurring  where  it 
is  not  expected,  and  not  being  found  where  it  is,  creates 
no  small  confusion  to  the  Reader, — who,  as  we  have  not 
seldom  observed,  beginning  in  all  the  solemnity  of  poetic 
elocution,  is  by  frequent  disappointments  of  the  rhyme, 
at  last  obliged  to  drawl  out  the  uncomplying  numbers  into 
disagreeable  prose. 

It  is,  by  no  means,  our  design  to  detract  from  the  merit 
of  our  Author's  present  attempt :  we  would  only  inti- 
mate, that  an  English  Poet, — one  whom  the  Muse  has 
mark'd  for  her  own,  could  produce  a  more  luxuriant  bloom 
of  flowers,  by  cultivating  such  as  are  natives  of  the  soil, 
than  by  endeavouring  to  force  the  exotics  of  another 
climate :  or,  to  speak  without  a  metaphor,  such  a  genius 
as  Mr.  Gray  might  give  greater  pleasure,  and  acquire  a 
larger  portion  of  fame,  if,  instead  of  being  an  imitator,  he 
did  justice  to  his  talents,  and  ventured  to  be  more  an  origi- 
nal.    These  two  Odes,  it  must  be  confessed,  breath  [e] 


GRAY'S   ODES  3 

much  of  the  spirit  of  Pindar,  but  then  they  have  caught  the 
seeming  obscurity,  the  sudden  transition,  and  hazardous 
epithet,  of  his  mighty  master ;  all  which,  though  evidently 
intended  for  beauties,  will,  probably,  be  regarded  as 
blemishes,  by  the  generality  of  his  Readers.  In  short, 
they  are  in  some  measure,  a  representation  of  what  Pindar 
now  appears  to  be,  though  perhaps,  not  what  he  appeared 
to  the  States  of  Greece,  when  they  rivalled  each  other  in 
his  applause,  and  when  Pan  himself  was  seen  dancing 
to  his  melody. 

In  conformity  to  the  antients,  these  Odes  consist  of  the 
Strophe,  Antistrophe,  and  Epode,  which,  in  each  Ode,  are 
thrice  repeated.  The  Strophes  have  a  correspondent  re- 
semblance in  their  str[u]cture  and  numbers  :  and  the  Anti- 
strophe  and  Epode  also  bear  the  same  similitude.  The 
Poet  seems,  in  the  first  Ode  particularly,  to  design  the 
Epode  as  a  complete  air  to  the  Strophe  and  Antistrophe, 
which  have  more  the  appearance  of  Recitative.  There 
was  a  necessity  for  these  divisions  among  the  antients,  for 
they  served  as  directions  to  the  dancer  and  musician ;  but 
we  see  no  reason  why  they  should  be  continued  among  the 
moderns ;  for,  instead  of  assisting,  they  will  but  perplex 
the  Musician,  as  our  music  requires  a  more  frequent 
transition  from  the  Air  to  the  Recitative  than  could  agree 
with  the  simplicity  of  the  antients. 

The  first  of  these  Poems  celebrates  the  Lyric  Muse.  It 
seems  the  most  laboured  performance  of  the  two,  but  yet 
we  think  its  merit  is  not  equal  to  that  of  the  second.  It 
seems  to  want  that  regularity  of  plan  upon  which  the 
second  is  founded;  and  though  it  abounds  with  images 
that  strike,  yet,  unlike  the  second,  it  contains  none  that  are 
affecting. 

In  the  second  Antistrophe  the  Bard  thus  marks  the 
progress  of  Poetry. 


4  THE   MONTHLY   REVIEW 

n.  [2.] 

In  climes  beyond  the  solar  road, 

Where  shaggy  forms  o'er  ice-built  mountains  roam, 

The  Muse  has  broke  the  twilight-gloom 

To  cheer  the  shivering  natives  dull  abode. 

And  oft  beneath  the  od'rous  shade 

Of  Chili's  boundless  forests  laid, 

She  deigns  to  hear  the  savage  youth  repeat. 

In  loose  numbers  wildly  sweet 

Their  feather-cinctured  Chiefs,  and  dusky  loves. 

Her  track,  where'er  the  Goddess  roves, 

Glory  pursue,  and  generous  shame, 

Th'  unconquerable  Mind,  and  Freedom's  holy  flame. 

There  is  great  spirit  in  the  irregtilarity  of  the  numbers 
towards  the  conclusion  of  the  foregoing  stanza. 

[II,  3,  and  III,  2,  of  The  Progress  of  Poesy  are  quoted  without 
comment.] 

The  second  *  Ode  is  founded  on  a  tradition  current  in 
'  Wales,  that  Edward  the  first,  when  he  compleated  the  con- 
*  quest  of  that  country,  ordered  all  the  Bards  that  fell  into 
'his  hands  to  be  put  to  death.'  The  Author  seems  to  have 
taken  the  hint  of  this  subject  from  the  fifteenth  Ode  of  the 
first  book  of  Horace.  Our  Poet  introduces  the  only  sur- 
viving Bard  of  that  country  in  concert  with  the  spirits  of 
his  murdered  brethren,  as  prophetically  denouncing  woes  < 
upon  the  Conqueror  and  his  posterity.  The  circum-  ^ 
stances  of  grief  and  horror  in  which  the  Bard  is  repre- 
sented, those  of  terror  in  the  preparation  of  the  votive* 
web,  and  the  mystic  obscurity  with  which  the  prophecies 
are  delivered,  will  give  as  much  pleasure  to  those  who 
relish  this  species  of  composition,  as  anything  that  has 
hitherto  appeared  in  our  language,  the  Odes  of  Dryden 
himself  not  excepted. 

[I,  2,  I,  3,  part  of  II,  I,  and  the  conclusion  of  The  Bard  are 

quoted.] — The  Monthly  Review. 


Oliver   Goldsmith 

The  Traveller,  or  a  Prospect  of  Society.    A  Poem.    In- 
scribed to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith.     By  Oliver 
Goldsmith,  M.B.    ^to.    Pr.    is.  6d.     Newbery. 
The  author  has,  in  an  elegant  dedication  to  his  brother, 
a  country  clergyman,  given  the  design  of  his  poem : — 
*  Without  espousing  the  cause  of  any  party,  I  have  at- 
tempted to  moderate  the  rage  of  all.     I  have  endeavoured 
to  shew,  that  there  may  be  equal  happiness  in  other  states, 
though  differently  governed  from  our  own ;  that  each  state 
has  a  peculiar  principle  of  happiness ;  and  that  this  prin- 
ciple in  each  state,  particularly  in  our  own,  may  be  carried 
to  a  mischievous  excess.' 

That  he  may  illustrate  and  enforce  this  important  posi- 
tion, the  author  places  himself  on  a  summit  of  the  Alps, 
and,  turning  his  eyes  around,  in  all  directions,  upon  the 
different  regions  that  lie  before  him,  compares,  not  merely 
their  situation  or  policy,  but  those  social  and  domestic 
manners  which,  after  a  very  few  deductions,  make  the 
sum  total  of  human  life. 

'Remote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow, 
Or  by  the  lazy  Scheld,  or  wandering  Po ; 
Or  onward,  where  the  rude  Carinthian  boor 
Against  the  houseless  stranger  shuts  the  door; 
Or  where  Campania's  plain  forsaken  lies, 
A  weary  waste  expanded  to  the  skies. 
Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 
My  heart  untravell'd  fond  turns  to  thee; 
Still  to  my  brother  turns  with  ceaseless  pain, 
And  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthening  chain. — 

Even  now,  where  Alpine  solitudes  ascend, 
I  sit  me  down  a  pensive  hour  to  spend ; 
And,  plac'd  on  high  above  the  storm's  career, 


6  THE   CRITICAL   REVIEW 

Look  downward  where  an  hundred  realms  appear; 
Lakes,   forests,  cities,  plains  extended  wide, 
The  pomp  of  kings,  the  shepherd's  humbler  pride. 

When  thus  creation's  charms  around  combine, 
Amidst  the  store  'twere  thankless  to  repine. 
'Twere  affectation  all,  and  school-taught  pride, 
To  spurn  the  splendid  things  by  heaven  supply'd. 
Let  school-taught  pride  dissemble  all  it  can, 
These  little  things  are  great  to  little  man; 
And  wiser  he,  whose  sympathetic  mind 
Exults  in  all  the  good  of  all  mankind.' 

The  author  already  appears,  by  his  numbers,  to  be  a 
versifier ;  and  by  his  scenery,  to  be  a  poet ;  it  therefore  only 
remains  that  his  sentiments  discover  him  to  be  a  just  esti- 
mator of  comparative  happiness. 

The  goods  of  life  are  either  given  by  nature,  or  procured 
by  ourselves.  Nature  has  distributed  her  gifts  in  very 
different  proportions,  yet  all  her  children  are  content ;  but 
the  acquisitions  of  art  are  such  as  terminate  in  good  or 
evil,  as  they  are  differently  regulated  or  combined. 

'  Yet,  where  to  find  that  happiest  spot  below, 
Who  can  direct,  when  all  pretend  to  know? 
The  shudd'ring  tenant  of  the  frigid  zone 
Boldly  asserts  that  country  for  his  own. 
Extols  the  treasures  of  his  stormy  seas. 
And  live-long  nights  of  revelry  and  ease; 
The  naked   Negro,  panting  at  the  line. 
Boasts  of  his  golden  sands  and  palmy  wine. 
Basks  in  the  glare,  or  stems  the  tepid  wave, 
And  thanks  his  Gods  for  all  the  good  they  gave. — 

Nature,  a  mother  kind  alike,  to  all. 
Still  grants  her  bliss  at  Labour's  earnest  call ; 
And  though  rough  rocks  or  gloomy  summits  frown, 
These  rocks,  by  custom,  turn  to  beds  of  down. 

From  Art  more  various  are  the  blessings  sent; 
Wealth,  splendours,  honor,  liberty,  content  : 
Yet  these  each  other's  power  so  strong  contest, 
That  either  seems  destructive  of  the  rest. 


GOLDSMITH'S    THE  TRAVELLER  7 

Hence  every  state,  to  one  lov'd  blessing  prone, 
Conforms  and  models  life  to  that  alone. 
Each  to  the  favourite  happiness  attends. 
And  spurns  the  plan  that  aims  at  other  ends; 
Till,  carried  to  excess  in  each  domain. 
This  favourite  good  begets  peculiar  pain.' 

This  is  the  position  which  he  conducts  through  Italy, 
Swisserland,  France,  Holland,  and  England ;  and  which  he 
endeavours  to  confirm  by  remarking  the  manners  of  every 
country. 

Having  censured  the  degeneracy  of  the  modern  Italians, 
he  proceeds  thus : 

'  My  soul  turn  from  them,  turn  we  to  survey 

Where  rougher  climes  a  nobler  race  display. 

Where  the  bleak  Swiss  their  stormy  mansions  tread. 

And  force  a  churlish  soil  for  scanty  bread ; 

No  product  here  the  barren  hills  afford, 

But  man  and  steel,  the  soldier  and  his  sword. 

No  vernal  blooms  their  torpid  rocks  array. 

But  winter  lingering  chills  the  lap  of  May; 

No  Zephyr  fondly  soothes  the  mountain's  breast. 

But  meteors  glare,  and  stormy  glooms  invest. 

Yet  still,  even  here,  content  can  spread  a  charm, 

Redress  the  clime,  and  all  its  rage  disarm. 

Though  poor  the  peasant's  hut,  his  feasts  though  small. 

He  sees  his  little  lot,  the  lot  of  all; 

See  no  contiguous  palace  rear  its  head 

To  shame  the  meanness  of  his  humble  shed; 

No  costly  lord  the  sumptuous  banquet  deal 

To  make  him  loath  his  vegetable  meal ; 

But  calm,  and  bred  in  ignorance  and  toil. 

Each  wish  contracting,  fits  him  to  the  soil.' 

But  having  found  that  the  rural  life  of  a  Swiss  has  its 
evils  as  well  as  comforts,  he  turns  to  France. 

'  To  kinder  skies,  where  gentler  manners  reign. 
We  turn ;  and  France  displays  her  bright  domain. 
Gay  sprightly  land  of  mirth  and  social  ease, 


8  THE   CRITICAL   REVIEW 

Pleas'd  with  thyself,  whom  all  the  world  can  please. — 

Theirs  are  those  arts  that  mind  to  mind  endear, 

For  honour  forms  the  social  temper  here. — 

From  courts  to  camps,  to  cottages  it  strays. 

And  all  are  taught  an  avarice  of  praise; 

They  please,  are  pleas'd,  they  give  to  get  esteem. 

Till,  seeming  blest,  they  grow  to  what  they  seem.' 

Yet  France  has  its  evils: 

'  For  praise  too  dearly  lov'd,  or  warmly  sought, 
Enfeebles  all  internal  strength  of  thought, 
And  the  weak  soul,  within  itself  unblest. 
Leans  all  for  pleasure  on  another's  breast. — 
The  mind  still  turns  where  shifting  fashion  draws. 
Nor  weighs  the  solid  worth  of  self-applause.' 

Having  then  passed  through  Holland,  he  arrives  in 
England,  where, 

'Stem  o'er  each  bosom  reason  holds  her  state, 

With  daring  aims,  irregularly  great, 

I  see  the  lords  of  human  kind  pass  by. 

Pride  in  their  port,  defiance  in  their  eye, 

Intent  on  high  designs,  a  thoughtful  band. 

By  forms  unfashion'd,  fresh  from  Nature's  hand.' 

With  the  inconveniences  that  harrass  [sic]  the  sons  of 
freedom,  this  extract  shall  be  concluded. 

'That  independence  Britons  prize  too  high. 
Keeps  man  from  man,  and  breaks  the  social  tie; 
See,  though  by  circling  deeps  together  held, 
Minds  combat  minds,  repelling  and  repell'd; 
Ferments  arise,  imprison'd  factions  roar, 
Represt  ambition  struggles  round  her  shore. 
Whilst,  over-wrought,  the  general  system  feels 
Its  motions  stopt,  or  phrenzy  fires  the  wheels. 

Nor  this  the  worst.     As  social  bonds  decay, 
As  duty,  love,  and  honour  fail  to  sway, 
Fictitious  bonds,  the  bonds  of  wealth  and  law. 
Still  gather  strength,  and  force  unwilling  awe. 
Hence  all  obedience  bows  to  these  alone. 


GOLDSMITH'S    THE  TRAVELLER  9 

And  talent  sinks,  and  merit  weeps  unknown ; 

Till  time  may  come,  when,  stript  of  all  her  charms. 

That  land  of  scholars,  and  that  nurse  of  arms; 

Where  noble  stems  transmit  the  patriot  flame, 

And  monarchs  toil,  and  poets  pant  for  fame; 

One  sink  of  level  avarice  shall  lie. 

And  scholars,  soldiers,  kings  unhonor'd  die.' 

Such  Is  the  poem,  on  which  we  now  congratulate  the 
public,  as  on  a  production  to  which,  since  the  death  of 
Pope,  it  will  not  be  easy  to  find  any  thing  equal. — The 
Critical  Review. 


William   Cowper 

Poertis  by  William  Cowper,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  Esq. 

8vo.     5^.    Johnson. 

These  Poems  are  written,  as  we  learn  from  the  title- 
page,  by  Mr.  Cowper  of  the  Inner  Temple,  who  seems  to 
be  a  man  of  a  sober  and  religious  turn  of  mind,  with  a 
benevolent  heart,  and  a  serious  wish  to  inculcate  the  pre- 
cepts of  morality;  he  is  not,  however,  possessed  of  any 
superior  abilities,  or  powers  of  genius,  requisite  to  so 
arduous  an  undertaking;  his  verses  are,  in  general,  weak 
and  languid,  and  have  neither  novelty,  spirit,  or  animation, 
to  recommend  them;  that  mediocrity  so  severely  con- 
demned by  Horace, 

Non  Dii  non  homines,  &c. 

pervades  the  whole;  and,  whilst  the  author  avoids 
every  thing  that  is  ridiculous  or  contemptible,  he,  at 
the  same  time,  never  rises  to  any  thing  that  we  can 
commend  or  admire.  He  says  what  is  incontrovert- 
ible, and  what  has  already  been  said  over  and  over,  with 
much  gravity,  but  says  nothing  new,  sprightly,  or  enter- 
taining ;  travelling  on  in  a  plain,  level,  flat  road,  with  great 
composure,  almost  through  the  whole  long,  and  rather 
tedious  volume,  which  is  little  better  than  a  dull  sermon, 
in  very  indifferent  verse,  on  Truth,  the  Progress  of  Error, 
Charity,  and  some  other  grave  subjects.  If  this  author 
had  followed  the  advice  given  by  Caraccioli,*  and  which  he 


*  Nous  sommes  nes  pour  la  verite,  et  nous  ne  pouvons  souffrir 
son  abord.  Les  figures,  les  parabolas,  les  emblemes,  sent  toujours 
des  ornements  necessaires  pour  qu'elle  puisse  s'annoncer :  on  veut, 
en  la  recevant,  qu'elle  soit  deguisce. 

lo 


COWPER'S   POEMS  ii 

has  chosen  for  one  of  the  mottos  prefixed  to  these  Poems, 
he  would  have  clothed  his  indisputable  truths  in  some 
becoming  disguise,  and  rendered  his  work  much  more 
agreeable.  In  its  present  state,  we  cannot  compliment 
him  on  its  shape  or  beauty;  for,  as  this  bard  himself 
sweetly  sings, 

'The  clear  harangue,  and  cold  as  it  is  clear, 
Falls  soporific  on  the  listless  ear.' 

In  his  learned  dissertation  on  Hope,  we  meet  with  the 
following  lines 

[Quotes  some  fifty  lines  from  Hope  beginning. 
Build  by  whatever  plan  caprice  decrees. 
With  what  materials,  on  what  ground  you  please,  etc.] 

All  this  is  very  true;  but  there  needs  no  ghost,  nor 
author,  nor  poet,  to  tell  us  what  we  knew  before,  unless 
he  could  tell  it  to  us  in  a  new  and  better  manner.  Add 
to  this,  that  many  of  our  author's  expressions  are  coarse, 
vulgar,  and  unpoetical ;  such  as  parrying,  pushing  by, 
spitting  abhorrence,  &c.  The  greatest  part  of  Mr."  Cow- 
per's  didactics  is  in  the  same  strain.  He  attempts  indeed 
sometimes  to  be  lively,  facetious,  and  satirical ;  but  is  sel- 
dom more  successful  in  this,  than  in  the  serious  and 
pathetic.  In  his  poem  on  Conversation  there  are  two  or 
three  faint  attempts  at  humour ;  in  one  of  them  he  tells  us 
that 

'  A  story  in  which  native  humour  reigns 

Is  often  useful,  always  entertains, 

A  graver  fact  enlisted  on  your  side. 

May  furnish  illustration,  well  applied; 

But  sedentary  weavers  of  long  tales, 

Give  me  the  fidgets  and  my  patience  fails. 

'Tis  the  most  asinine  employ  on  earth, 

To  hear  them  tell  of  parentage  and  birth, 


12  THE   CRITICAL   REVIEW 

And  echo  conversations  dull  and  dry, 
Embellished  with,  he  said,  and  so  said  I. 
At  ev'ry  interview  their  route  the  same, 
The   repetition   makes  attention   lame, 
We  bustle  up  with  unsuccessful  speed, 
And  in  the  saddest  part  cry — droll  indeed! 
The  path  of  narrative  with  care  pursue, 
Still  making  probability  your  clue, 
On  all  the  vestiges  of  truth  attend. 
And  let  them  guide  you  to  a  decent  end. 
Of  all  ambitions  man  may  entertain, 
The  worst  that  can  invade  a  sickly  brain. 
Is  that  which  angles  hourly  for  surprize, 
And  baits  its  hook  with  prodigies  and  lies. 
Credulous  infancy  or  age  as  weak 
Are  fittest  auditors  for  such  to  seek. 
Who  to  please  others  will  themselves  disgrace, 
Yet  please  not,  but  afifront  you  to  your  face.* 

In  the  passage  above  quoted,  our  readers  will  perceive 
that  the  wit  is  rather  aukward,  {sic]  and  the  verses,  espe- 
cially the  last,  very  prosaic. 

Toward  the  end  of  this  volume  are  some  little  pieces  of 
a  lighter  kind,  which,  after  dragging  through  Mr. 
Cowper's  long  moral  lectures,  afforded  us  some  relief. 
The  fables  of  the  Lily  and  the  Rose,  the  Nightingale  and 
Glow-worm,  the  Pine-apple  and  the  Bee,  with  two  or 
three  others,  are  written  with  ease  and  spirit.  It  is  a  pity 
that  our  author  had  not  confined  himself  altogether  to  this 
species  of  poetry,  without  entering  into  a  system  of  ethics, 
for  which  his  genius  seems  but  ill  adapted. — The  Critical 
Review. 


Robert  Burns 

Poems,  chie-Hy  in   the  Scottish  Dialect.    By  Robert 

Burns,  Kilmarnock. 

When  an  author  we  know  nothing  of  solicits  our  atten- 
tion, we  are  but  too  apt  to  treat  him  with  the  same  reluct- 
ant civility  we  show  to  a  person  who  has  come  unbidden 
into  company.  Yet  talents  and  address  will  gradually 
diminish  the  distance  of  our  behaviour,  and  when  the  first 
unfavourable  impression  has  worn  off,  the  author  may 
become  a  favourite,  and  the  stranger  a  friend.  The  poems 
we  have  just  announced  may  probably  have  to  struggle 
with  the  pride  of  learning  and  the  partiality  of  refinement ; 
yet  they  are  intitled  to  particular  indulgence. 

Who  are  you,  Mr.  Burns?  will  some  surly  critic  say. 
At  what  university  have  you  been  educated?  what  lan- 
guages do  you  understand?  what  authors  have  you  par- 
ticularly studied?  whether  has  Aristotle  or  Horace 
directed  your  taste?  who  has  praised  your  poems,  and 
under  whose  patronage  are  they  published  ?  In  short,  what 
qualifications  intitle  you  to  instruct  or  entertain  us?  To 
the  questions  of  such  a  catechism,  perhaps  honest  Robert 
Burns  would  make  no  satisfactory  answers.  '  My  good 
Sir,  he  might  say,  I  am  a  poor  country  man ;  I  was  bred 
up  at  the  school  of  Kilmarnock ;  I  understand  no  lan- 
guages but  my  own;  I  have  studied  Allan  Ramsay  and 
Ferguson.  My  poems  have  been  praised  at  many  a  fire- 
side; and  I  ask  no  patronage  for  them,  if  they  deserve 
none.  I  have  not  looked  on  mankind  through  the  spec- 
tacle of  hooks.  An  ounce  of  mother-wit,  you  know,  is 
worth  a  pound  of  clergy ;  and  Homer  and  Ossian,  for  any 
thing  that  I  have  heard,  could  neither  write  nor  read.* 

13 


14  THE   EDINBURGH   MAGAZINE 

The  author  is  indeed  a  striking  example  of  native  genius 
bursting  through  the  obscurity  of  poverty  and  the  obstruc- 
tions of  laborious  life.  He  is  said  to  be  a  common 
ploughman;  and  when  we  consider  him  in  this  light,  we 
cannot  help  regretting  that  wayward  fate  had  not  placed 
him  in  a  more  favoured  situation.  Those  who  view  him 
with  the  severity  of  lettered  criticism,  and  judge  him  by 
the  fastidious  rules  of  art,  will  discover  that  he  has  not 
the  doric  simplicity  of  Ramsay,  nor  the  brilliant  imagina- 
tion of  Ferguson ;  but  to  those  who  admire  the  exertions 
of  untutored  fancy,  and  are  blind  to  many  faults  for  the 
sake  of  numberless  beauties,  his  poems  will  afford  singular 
gratification.  His  observations  on  human  characters  are 
acute  and  sagacious,  and  his  descriptions  are  lively  and 
just.  Of  rustic  pleasantry  he  has  a  rich  fund ;  and  some 
of  his  softer  scenes  are  touched  with  inimitable  delicacy. 
He  seems  to  be  a  boon  companion,  and  often  startles  us 
with  a  dash  of  libertinism,  which  will  keep  some  readers 
at  a  distance.  Some  of  his  subjects  are  serious,  but  those 
of  the  humorous  kind  are  the  best.  It  is  not  meant,  how- 
ever, to  enter  into  a  minute  investigation  of  his  merits, 
as  the  copious  extracts  we  have  subjoined  will  enable  our 
readers  to  judge  for  themselves.  The  Character  Horace 
gives  to  Osellus  is  particularly  applicable  to  him. 

RusHcus  ahnormis  sapiens,  crassaque  Minerva. 

[Quotes  Address  to  the  Deil,  from  the  Epistle  to  a  Brother 
Bard,  from  Description  of  a  Sermon  in  the  Fields,  and  from 
Hallowe'en.] — The  Edinburgh  Magazine. 


Poems,  chiefly  in  the  Scottish  Dialect.  .  By  Robert  Burns. 

Printed  at  Kilmarnock. 

We  have  had  occasion  to  examine  a  number  of  poetical 
productions,  written  by  persons  in  the  lower  rank  of  life, 
and  who  had  hardly  received  any  education ;  but  we  do  not 
recollect  to  have  ever  met  with  a  more  signal  instance  of 
true  and  uncultivated  genius,  than  in  the  author  of  these 
Poems.  His  occupation  is  that  of  a  common  ploughman ; 
and  his  life  has  hitherto  been  spent  in  struggling  with 
poverty.  But  all  the  rigours  of  fortune  have  not  been  able 
to  repress  the  frequent  efforts  of  his  lively  and  vigorous 
imagination.  Some  of  these  poems  are  of  a  serious  cast ; 
but  the  strain  which  seems  most  natural  to  the  author,  is 
the  sportive  and  humorous.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  that 
the  Scottish  dialect,  in  which  these  poems  are  written, 
must  obscure  the  native  beauties  with  which  they  appear 
to  abound,  and  renders  the  sense  often  unintelligible  to  an 
English  reader.  Should  it,  however,  prove  true,  that  the 
author  has  been  taken  under  the  patronage  of  a  great 
lady  in  Scotland,  and  that  a  celebrated  professor  has  in- 
terested himself  in  the  cultivation  of  his  talents,  there  is 
reason  to  hope,  that  his  distinguished  genius  may  yet  be 
exerted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  afford  more  general  de- 
light. In  the  meantime,  we  must  admire  the  generous 
enthusiasm  of  his  untutored  muse ;  and  bestow  the  tribute 
of  just  applause  on  one  whose  name  will  be  transmitted  to 
posterity  with  honour. — The  Critical  Review, 


IS 


William  Wordsworth 

Descriptive  Sketches,  in  Verse,     Taken  during  a  Pedes- 
trian Tour  in  the  Italian,  Grison,  Swiss  and  Savoyard 
Alps.     By  W.  Wordsworth,  B.A.  of  St.  John's,  Cam- 
bridge.    4to.     pp.  55.     3s.     Johnson.     1793. 
More  descriptive  poetry!    (See  page  166,  &c.)     Have 
we  not  yet  enough?    Must  eternal  changes  be  rung  on 
uplands  and  lowlands,  and  nodding  forests,  and  brooding 
clouds,  and  cells,  and  dells,  and  dingles  ?  Yes ;  more,  and 
yet  more :   so  it  is  decreed. 

Mr.  Wordsworth  begins  his  descriptive  sketches  with 
the  following  exordium : 

'Were  there,  below,  a  spot  of  holy  ground. 

By  Pain  and  her  sad  family  wnfound, 

Sure,  Nature's  God  that  spot  to  man  had  giv'n, 

Where  murmuring  rivers  join  the  song  of  eT/n! 

Where  falls  the  purple  morning  far  and  wide 

In  Hakes  of  light  upon  the  mountain  side; 

Where  summer  suns  in  ocean  sink  to  rest, 

Or  moonlight  upland  lifts  her  hoary  breast; 

Where  Silence,  on  her  night  of  wing,  o'er-broods 

Unfathom'd  dells  and  undiscover'd  woods; 

Where  rocks  and  groves  the  power  of  waters  shakes 

In  cataracts,  or  sleeps  in  quiet  lakes." 

May  we  ask,  how  it  is  that  rivers  join  the  song  of 
ev'n?  or,  in  plain  prose,  the  evening!  but,  if  they  do,  is 
it  not  true  that  they  equally  join  the  song  of  morning, 
noon,  and  night  ?  The  purple  niorning  falling  in  Hakes  of 
light  is  a  bold  figure :  but  we  are  told,  it  falls  far  and  wide 
— Where? — On  the  mountain's  side.  We  are  sorry  to 
see  the  purple  morning  confined  so  like  a  maniac  in  a 
straight  waistcoat.     What  the  night  of  wing  of  silence  is, 

16 


WORDSWORTH'S  DESCRIPTIVE  SKETCHES      17 

we  are  unable  to  comprehend :  but  the  climax  of  the 
passage  is,  that,  were  there  such  a  spot  of  holy  ground  as 
is  here  so  sublimely  described,  unfound  by  Pain  and  her 
sad  family,  Nature's  God  had  surely  given  that  spot  to 
man,  though  its  woods  were  undiscovered. 
Let  us  proceed, 

'  But  doubly  pitying  Nature  loves  to  show'r 
Soft  on  his  wounded  heart  her  healing  pow'r, 
Who  plods  o'er  hills  and  vales  his  road  forlorn, 
Wooing  her  varying  charms  from  eve  to  mom. 
No  sad  vacuities  his  heart  annoy, 
Blows  not  a  Zephyr  but  it  whispers  joy; 
For  him  lost  flowers  their  idle  sweets  exhale; 
He  tastes  the  meanest  note  that  swells  the  gale; 
For  him  sod-seats  the  cottage-door  adorn, 
And   peeps   the    far-ofT   spire,   his    evening   bourn ! 
Dear  is  the  forest  frowning  o'er  his  head, 
And  dear  the  green-sward  to  his  velvet  tread; 
Moves  there  a  cloud  o'er  mid-day's  flaming  eye? 
Upwards  he  looks — and  calls  it  luxury; 
Kind  Nature's  charities  his  steps  attend, 
In  every  babbling  brook  he  finds  a  friend.' 

Here  we  find  that  doubly  pitying  Nature  is  very  Icind  to 
the  traveller,  but  that  this  traveller  has  a  wounded  heart 
and  plods  his  road  forlorn.  In  the  next  line  but  one  we 
discover  that — 

'  No  sad  vacuities  his  heart  annoy; 
Blows  not  a  Zephyr  but  it  whispers  joy.' 

The  flowers,  though  they  have  lost  themselves,  or  are 
lost,  exhale  their  idle  sweets  for  him ;  the  spire  peeps  for 
him;  sod-seats,  forests,  clouds,  nature's  charities,  and 
babbling  brooks,  all  are  to  him  luxury  and  friendship.  He 
is  the  happiest  of  mortals,  and  plods,  is  forlorn,  and  has 
a  wounded  heart.  How  often  shall  we  in  vain  advise 
5 


i8  THE   MONTHLY   REVIEW 

those,  who  are  so  delighted  with  their  own  thoughts  that 
they  cannot  forbear  from  putting  them  into  rhyme,  to  ex- 
amine those  thoughts  till  they  themselves  understand 
them  ?  No  man  will  ever  be  a  poet,  till  his  mind  be  suffi- 
ciently powerful  to  sustain  this  labour. — The  Monthly 
Review. 


An  Evening  Walk.    An  Epistle ;  in  Verse.     Addressed  to 
a  Young  Lady,  from  the  Lakes  of  the  North  of  Eng- 
land.    By  W.  Wordsworth,  B.A.  of  St.  John's,  Cam- 
bridge.    4to.     pp.  27.     2s.     Johnson.     1793. 
In  this  Epistle,  the  subject  and  the  manner  of  treating 
it  vary  but  little  from  the  former  poem.     We  will  quote 
four  lines  from  a  passage  which  the  author  very  sorrow- 
fully apologizes  for  having  omitted : 

'  Return  delights !   with  whom  my  road  begun, 
When  Life-rear'd  laughing  up  her  morning  sun; 
When  Transport  kiss'd  away  my  April  tear, 
"  Rocking  as  in  a  dream  the  tedious  year." 

Life  rearing  up  the  sun!  Transport  kissing  away  an 
April  tear  and  rocking  the  year  as  in  a  dream!  Would 
the  cradle  had  been  specified !  Seriously,  these  are  figures 
which  no  poetical  license  can  justify.  If  they  can  possibly 
give  pleasure,  it  must  be  to  readers  whose  habits  of  think- 
ing are  totally  different  from  ours.  Mr.  Wordsworth  is 
a  scholar,  and,  no  doubt,  when  reading  the  works  of 
others,  a  critic.  There  are  passages  in  his  poems  which 
display  imagination,  and  which  afford  hope  for  the  future : 
but,  if  he  can  divest  himself  of  all  partiality,  and  will 
critically  question  every  line  that  he  has  written,  he  will 
find  many  which,  he  must  allow,  call  loudly  for  amend- 
ment,^ r/i^  Monthly  Review, 


i; 


Lyrical  Ballads,  with  a  few  other  Poems.    Small  ^vo. 

5  J.     Boards.     Arch.     1798. 

The  majority  of  these  poems,  we  are  informed  in  the 
advertisement,  are  to  be  considered  as  experiments. 

*  They  were  written  chiefly  with  a  view  to  ascertain 
how  far  the  language  of  conversation  in  the  middle  and 
lower  classes  of  society  is  adapted  to  the  purposes  of 
poetic  pleasure.'     P.  i. 

Of  these  experimental  poems,  the  most  important  is  the 
Idiot  Boy,  the  story  of  which  is  simply  this.  Betty  Foy's 
neighbour  Susan  Gale  is  indisposed ;  and  no  one  can  con- 
veniently be  sent  for  the  doctor  but  Betty's  idiot  boy.  She 
therefore  puts  him  upon  her  poney,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  gives  him  proper  directions,  and  returns  to  take 
care  of  her  sick  neighbour.  Johnny  is  expected  with  the 
doctor  by  eleven ;  but  the  clock  strikes  eleven,  and  twelve, 
and  one,  without  the  appearance  either  of  Johnny  or  the 
doctor.  Betty's  restless  fears  become  insupportable;  and 
she  now  leaves  her  friend  to  look  for  her  idiot  son.  She 
goes  to  the  doctor's  house,  but  hears  nothing  of  Johnny. 
About  five  o'clock,  however,  she  finds  him  sitting  quietly 
upon  his  feeding  poney.  As  they  go  home  they  meet  old 
Susan,  whose  apprehensions  have  cured  her,  and  brought 
her  out  to  seek  them ;  and  they  all  return  merrily  together. 

Upon  this  subject  the  author  has  written  nearly  five 
hundred  lines.  With  what  spirit  the  story  is  told,  our 
extract  will  evince. 

[Quotes  lines  (322-401)  of  The  Idiot  Boy."] 

No  tale  less  deserved  the  labour  that  appears  to  have 
been  bestowed  upon  this.  It  resembles  a  Flemish  picture 
in  the  worthlessness  of  its  desiann  and  the  excellence  of  its 


THE  LYRICAL  BALLADS  21 

execution.  From  Flemish  artists  we  are  satisfied  with 
such  pieces :  who  would  not  have  lamented,  if  Corregio 
or  Rafaelle  had  wasted  their  talents  in  painting  Dutch 
boors  or  the  humours  of  a  Flemish  wake  ? 

The  other  ballads  of  this  kind  are  as  bald  in  story,  and 
are  not  so  highly  embellished  in  narration.  With  that 
which  is  entitled  the  Thorn,  we  were  altogether  displeased. 
The  advertisement  says,  it  is  not  told  in  the  person  of  the 
author,  but  in  that  of  some  loquacious  narrator.  The 
author  should  have  recollected  that  he  who  personates 
tiresome  loquacity,  becomes  tiresome  himself.  The  story 
c.i  a  man  who  suffers  the  perpetual  pain  of  cold,  because 
an  old  woman  prayed  that  he  might  never  be  warm,  is 
perhaps  a  good  story  for  a  ballad,  because  it  is  a  well- 
known  tale:  but  is  the  author  certain  that  it  is  'well 
authenticated?'  and  does  not  such  an  assertion  promote 
the  popular  superstition  of  witchcraft? 

In  a  very  different  style  of  poetry,  is  the  Rime  of  the 
Ancyent  Marinere;  a  ballad  (says  the  advertisement) 
*  professedly  written  in  imitation  of  the  style,  as  well  as 
of  the  spirit  of  the  elder  poets.'  We  are  tolerably  con- 
versant with  the  early  English  poets ;  and  can  discover  no 
resemblance  whatever,  except  in  antiquated  spelling  and 
a  few  obsolete  words.  This  piece  appears  to  us  perfectly 
original  in  style  as  well  as  in  story.  Many  of  the  stanzas 
are  laboriously  beautiful;  but  in  connection  they  are 
absurd  or  unintelligible.  Our  readers  may  exercise  their 
ingenuity  in  attempting  to  unriddle  what  follows. 

*  The  roaring  wind !   it  roar'd  far  off, 
It  did  not  come  anear; 
But  with  its  sound  it  shook  the  sails 
That  were  so  thin  and  sere. 

The  upper  air  bursts  into  life. 
And  a  hundred  fire-flags  sheen 


2  2  THE    CRITICAL   REVIEW 

To  and  fro  they  are  hurried  about; 
And  to  and  fro,  and  in  and  out 
The  stars  dance  on  between. 

The  coming  wind  doth  roar  more  loud; 

The  sails  do  sigh,  like  sedge : 
The   rain   pours   down    from   one   black   cloud, 

And  the  moon  is  at  its  edge. 

Hark!   hark!   the  thick  black  cloud  is  cleft,. 

And  the  moon  is  at  its  side: 
Like  waters  shot  from  some  high  crag. 
The  lightning  falls  with  never  a  jag 

A  river  steep  and  wide. 

The  strong  wind  reach'd  the  ship :    it  roar'd 

And  dropp'd  down,  like  a  stone! 
Beneath  the  lightning  and  the  moon 

The  dead  men  gave  a  groan.'     P.  27. 

We  do  not  sufficiently  understand  the  story  to  analyse 
it.  It  is  a  Dutch  attempt  at  German  sublimity.  Genius 
has  here  been  employed  in  producing  a  poem  of  little 
merit. 

With  pleasure  we  turn  to  the  serious  pieces,  the  better 
part  of  the  volume.  The  Foster-Mother's  Tale  is  in  the 
best  style  of  dramatic  narrative.  The  Dungeon,  and  the 
Lines  upon  the  Yew-tree  Seat,  are  beautiful.  The  Tale 
of  the  Female  Vagrant  is  written  in  the  stanza,  not  the 
style,  of  Spenser.     We  extract  a  part  of  this  poem. 

[Quotes  lines   (91-180)  of  The  Female  Vagrant.'] 

Admirable  as  this  poem  is,  the  author  seems  to  discover 
still  superior  powers  in  the  Lines  written  near  Tintem 
Abbey.  On  reading  this  production,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  lament  that  he  should  ever  have  condescended  to  write 
such  pieces  as  the  Last  of  the  Flock,  the  Convict,  and 
most  of  the  ballads.     In   the  whole   range  of   English 


THE   LYRICAL   BALLADS  23 

poetry,  we  scarcely  recollect  anything  superior  to  a  part 
of  the  following  passage, 

[Quotes  lines  (66-112)  of  Lines  Written  a  few  Miles  above 
Tintern  Abbey. '\ 

The  '  experiment/  we  think,  has  failed,  not  because  the 
language  of  conversation  is  little  adapted  to  *  the  purposes 
of  poetic  pleasure '  but  because  it  has  been  tried  upon  un- 
interesting subjects.  Yet  every  piece  discovers  genius; 
and,  ill  as  the  author  has  frequently  employed  his  talents, 
they  certainly  rank  him  with  the  best  of  living  poets^ 
— The  Critical  Review. 


Poems,  in  Two  Volumes.  By  William  Wordsworth, 
Author  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads.  8vo.  pp.  320.  Lon- 
don, 1807. 

This  author  is  known  to  belong  to  a  certain  brotherhood 
of  poets,  who  have  haunted  for  some  years  about  the 
Lakes  of  Cumberland;  and  is  generally  looked  upon,  we 
believe,  as  the  purest  model  of  the  excellences  and  pecu- 
liarities of  the  school  which  they  have  been  labouring  to 
establish.  Of  the  general  merits  of  that  school,  we  have 
had  occasion  to  express  our  opinion  pretty  freely,  in  more 
places  than  one,  and  even  to  make  some  allusion  to  the 
former  publications  of  the  writer  now  before  us.  We 
are  glad,  however,  to  have  found  an  opportunity  of  at- 
tending somewhat  more  particularly  to  his  pretensions. 

The  Lyrical  Ballads  were  unquestionably  popular ;  and, 
we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  deservedly  popular ;  for 
in  spite  of  their  occasional  vulgarity,  affectation,  and  silli- 
ness, they  were  undoubtedly  characterised  by  a  strong 
spirit  of  originality,  of  pathos,  and  natural  feeling;  and 
recommended  to  all  good  minds  by  the  clear  impression 
which  they  bore  of  the  amiable  dispositions  and  virtuous 
principles  of  the  author.  By  the  help  of  these  qualities, 
they  were  enabled,  not  only  to  recommend  themselves  to 
the  indulgence  of  many  judicious  readers,  but  even  to 
beget  among  a  pretty  numerous  class  of  persons,  a  sort 
of  admiration  of  the  very  defects  by  which  they  were  at- 
tended. It  was  upon  this  account  chiefly,  that  we  thought 
it  necessary  to  set  ourselves  against  this  alarming  innova- 
tion. Childishness,  conceit,  and  affectation,  are  not  of 
themselves  very  popular  or  attractive;  and  though  mere 
novelty  has  sometimes  been  found  sufficient  to  give  them 

24 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  25 

a  temporary  currency,  we  should  have  had  no  fear  of  their 
prevailing  to  any  dangerous  extent,  if  they  had  been 
graced  with  no  more  seductive  accompaniments.  It  was 
precisely  because  the  perverseness  and  bad  taste  of  this 
new  school  was  combined  with  a  great  deal  of  genius  and 
of  laudable  feeling,  that  we  were  afraid  of  their  spreading 
and  gaining  ground  among  us,  and  that  we  entered  into 
the  discussion  with  a  degree  of  zeal  and  animosity  which 
some  might  think  unreasonable  toward  authors,  to  whom 
so  much  merit  had  been  conceded.  There  were  times  and 
moods  indeed,  in  which  we  were  led  to  suspect  ourselves  of 
unjustifiable  severity,  and  to  doubt,  whether  a  sense  of 
public  duty  had  not  carried  us  rather  too  far  in  reproba- 
tion of  errors,  that  seemed  to  be  atoned  for,  by  excellences 
of  no  vulgar  description.  At  other  times,  the  magnitude 
of  these  errors — the  disgusting  absurdities  into  which  they 
led  their  feebler  admire,rs,  and  the  derision  and  contempt 
which  they  drew  from  the  more  fastidious,  even  upon  the 
merits  with  which  they  were  associated,  made  us  wonder 
more  than  ever  at  the  perversity  by  which  they  were  re- 
tained, and  regret  that  we  had  not  declared  ourselves 
against  them  with  still  more  formidable  and  decided  hos- 
tility. 

In  this  temper  of  mind,  we  read  the  annonce  of  Mr 
Wordsworth's  publication  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  and 
expectation,  and  opened  his  volumes  with  greater  anxiety, 
than  he  or  his  admirers  will  probably  give  us  credit  for. 
We  have  been  greatly  disappointed  certainly  as  to  the 
quality  of  the  poetry ;  but  we  doubt  whether  the  publica- 
tion has  afforded  so  much  satisfaction  to  any  other  of  his 
readers : — it  has  freed  us  from  all  doubt  or  hesitation  as 
to  the  justice  of  our  former  censures,  and  has  brought  the 
matter  to  a  test,  which  we  cannot  help  hoping  may  be  con- 
vincing to  the  author  himself. 


26  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

Mr  Wordsworth,  we  think,  has  now  brought  the  ques- 
tion, as  to  the  merit  of  his  new  school  of  poetry,  to  a 
very  fair  and  decisive  issue.  The  volumes  before  us  are 
much  more  strongly  marked  by  all  its  peculiarities  than 
any  former  publication  of  the  fraternity.  In  our  appre- 
hension, they  are,  on  this  very  account,  infinitely  less  in- 
teresting or  meritorious ;  but  it  belongs  to  the  public,  and 
not  to  us,  to  decide  upon  their  merit,  and  we  will  confess, 
that  so  strong  is  our  conviction  of  their  obvious  inferiority, 
and  the  grounds  of  it,  that  we  are  willing  for  once  to 
wa[i]  ve  our  right  of  appealing  to  posterity,  and  to  take  the 
judgment  of  the  present  generation  of  readers,  and  even 
of  Mr  Wordsworth's  former  admirers,  as  conclusive  on 
this  occasion.  If  these  volumes,  which  have  all  the  benefit 
of  the  author's  former  popularity,  turn  out  to  be  nearly  as 
popular  as  the  lyrical  ballads — if  they  sell  nearly  to  the 
same  extent — or  are  quoted  and  imitated  among  half  as 
many  individuals,  we  shall  admit  that  Mr  Wordsworth 
has  come  much  nearer  the  truth  in  his  judgment  of  what 
constitutes  the  charm  of  poetry,  than  we  had  previously 
imagined — and  shall  institute  a  more  serious  and  respect- 
ful inquiry  into  his  principles  of  composition  than  we  have 
yet  thought  necessary.  On  the  other  hand, — if  this  little 
work,  selected  from  the  compositions  of  five  maturer 
years,  and  written  avowedly  for  the  purpose  of  exalting 
a  system,  which  has  already  excited  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion, should  be  generally  rejected  by  those  whose  prepos- 
sessions were  in  its  favour,  there  is  room  to  hope,  not  only 
that  the  system  itself  will  meet  with  no  more  encourage- 
ment, but  even  that  the  author  will  be  persuaded  to  aban- 
don a  plan  of  writing,  which  defrauds  his  industry  and 
talents  of  their  natural  reward. 

Putting  ourselves  thus  upon  our  country,  we  certainly 
look  for  a  verdict  against  this  publication ;  and  have  little 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  27 

doubt  indeed  of  the  result,  upon  a  fair  consideration  of 
the  evidence  contained  in  these  volumes. — To  accelerate 
that  result,  and  to  give  a  general  viev\^  of  the  evidence, 
to  those  into  whose  hands  the  record  may  not  have 
already  fallen,  we  must  now  make  a  few  observations  and 
extracts. 

We  shall  not  resume  any  of  the  particular  discussions 
by  which  we  formerly  attempted  to  ascertain  the  value  of 
the  improvements  which  this  new  school  had  effected  in 
poetry  ;*  but  shall  lay  the  grounds  of  our  opposition,  for 
this  time,  a  little  more  broadly.  The  end  of  poetry,  we 
take  it,  is  to  please — and  the  name,  we  think,  is  strictly 
applicable  to  every  metrical  composition  from  which  we 
receive  pleasure,  without  any  laborious  exercise  of  the 
understanding.  This  pleasure,  may,  in  general,  be  ana- 
lyzed into  three  parts — that  which  we  receive  from  the 
excitement  of  Passion  or  emotion — that  which  is  de- 
rived from  the  play  of  Imagination,  or  the  easy  exercise 
of  Reason — and  that  which  depends  on  the  character  and 
qualities  of  the  Diction.  The  two  first  are  the  vital  and 
primary  springs  of  poetical  delight,  and  can  scarcely  re- 
quire explanation  to  any  one.  The  last  has  been  alter- 
nately overrated  and  undervalued  by  the  professors  of  the 
poetical  art,  and  is  in  such  low  estimation  with  the  author 
now  before  us  and  his  associates,  that  it  is  necessary  to 
say  a  few  words  in  explanation  of  it. 

One  great  beauty  of  diction  exists  only  for  those  who 
have  some  degree  of  scholarship  or  critical  skill.  This  is 
what  depends  on  the  exquisite  propriety  of  the  words 
employed,  and  the  delicacy  with  which  they  are  adapted 
to  the  meaning  which  is  to  be  expressed.  Many  of  the 
finest  passages  in  Virgil  and  Pope  derive  their  principal 
charm  from  the  fine  propriety  of  their  diction.     Another 


*  See  Vol.  I.  p.  6z,  &c.— Vol.  VII.  p.  i,  &c. 


28  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

source  of  beauty,  which  extends  only  to  the  more  in- 
structed class  of  readers,  is  that  which  consists  in  the 
judicious  or  happy  application  of  expressions  which  have 
been  sanctified  by  the  use  of  famous  writers,  or  which 
bear  the  stamp  of  a  simple  or  venerable  antiquity.  There 
are  other  beauties  of  diction,  however,  which  are  per- 
ceptible by  all — the  beauties  of  sweet  sound  and  pleasant 
associations.  The  melody  of  words  and  verses  is  indif- 
ferent to  no  reader  of  poetry ;  but  the  chief  recommenda- 
tion of  poetical  language  is  certainly  derived  from  those 
general  associations,  which  give  it  a  character  of  dignity 
or  elegance,  sublimity  or  tenderness.  Every  one  knows 
that  there  are  low  and  mean  expressions,  as  well  as  lofty 
and  grave  ones ;  and  that  some  words  bear  the  impression 
of  coarseness  and  vulgarity,  as  clearly  as  others  do  of  re- 
finement and  affection.  We  do  not  mean,  of  course,  to 
say  anything  in  defence  of  the  hackneyed  common-places 
of  ordinary  versemen.  Whatever  might  have  been  the 
original  character  of  these  unlucky  phrases,  they  are  now 
associated  with  nothing  but  ideas  of  schoolboy  imbecility 
and  vulgar  affectation.  But  what  we  do  maintain  is,  that 
much  of  the  most  popular  poetry  in  the  world  owes  its 
celebrity  chiefly  to  the  beauty  of  its  diction ;  and  that  no 
poetry  can  be  long  or  generally  acceptable,  the  language 
of  which  is  coarse,  inelegant,  or  infantine. 

From  this  great  source  of  pleasure,  we  think  the  read- 
ers of  Mr  Wordsworth  are  in  a  great  measure  cut  off. 
His  diction  has  no  where  any  pretensions  to  elegance  or 
dignity;  and  he  has  scarcely  ever  condescended  to  give 
the  grace  of  correctness  or  melody  to  his  versification. 
If  it  were  merely  slovenly  and  neglected,  however,  all 
this  might  be  endured.  Strong  sense  and  powerful  feel- 
ing will  ennoble  any  expressions ;  or,  at  least,  no  one  who 
is  capable  of  estimating  those  higher  merits,  will  be  dis- 


WORDSWORTH'S  POEMS  29 

posed  to  mark  these  little  defects.  But,  in  good  truth, 
no  man,  now-a-days,  composes  verses  for  publica- 
tion with  a  slovenly  neglect  of  their  language.  It  is  a 
fine  and  laborious  manufacture,  which  can  scarcely  ever 
be  made  in  a  hurry ;  and  the  faults  which  it  has,  may,  for 
the  most  part,  be  set  down  to  bad  taste  or  incapacity, 
rather  than  to  carelessness  or  oversight.  With  Mr 
Wordsworth  and  his  friends,  it  is  plain  that  their  pecu- 
liarites  of  diction  are  things  of  choice,  and  not  of  accident. 
They  write  as  they  do,  upon  principle  and  system ;  and 
it  evidently  costs  them  much  pains  to  keep  down  to  the 
standard  which  they  have  proposed  to  themselves.  They 
are,  to  the  full,  as  much  mannerists,  too,  as  the  poetasters 
who  ring  changes  on  the  common-places  of  magazine 
versification;  and  all  the  difference  between  them  is,  that 
they  borrow  their  phrases  from  a  different  and  a  scantier 
gradus  ad  Parnassimi.  If  they  were,  indeed,  to  discard 
all  imitation  and  set  phraseology,  and  to  bring  in  no  words 
merely  for  show  or  for  metre, — as  much,  perhaps,  might 
be  gained  in  freedom  and  originality,  as  would  infallibly 
be  lost  in  allusion  and  authority ;  but,  in  point  of  fact,  the 
new  poets  are  just  as  great  borrowers  as  the  old;  only 
that,  instead  of  borrowing  from  the  more  popular  pas- 
sages of  their  illustrious  predecessors,  they  have  preferred 
furnishing  themselves  from  vulgar  ballads  and  plebeian 
nurseries. 

Their  peculiarities  of  diction  alone,  are  enough,  perhaps, 
to  render  them  ridiculous ;  but  the  author  before  us  really 
seems  anxious  to  court  this  literary  martyrdom  by  a  device 
still  more  infallible, — we  mean,  that  of  comi£Cting  his 
most  lofty,  tender,  or  impassioned  conceptions,  with 
objects  and  incidents,  which  the  greater  part  of  his 
readers  will  probably  persist  in  thinking  low,  silly,  or  un- 
interesting.    Whether  this  is  done  from  affectation  and 


3°  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

conceit  alone,  or  whether  it  may  not  arise,  in  some  meas- 
ure, from  the  self-illusion  of  a  mind  of  extraordinary 
sensibility,  habituated  to  solitary  meditation,  we  cannot 
undertake  to  determine.  It  is  possible  enough,  we  allow, 
that  the  sight  of  a  friend's  garden-spade,  or  a  sparrow's 
nest,  or  a  man  gathering  leeches,  might  really  have  sug- 
gested to  such  a  mind  a  train  of  powerful  impressions 
and  interesting  reflections ;  but  it  is  certain,  that,  to  most 
minds,  such  associations  will  always  appear  forced, 
strained,  and  unnatural ;  and  that  the  composition  in 
which  it  is  attempted  to  exhibit  them,  will  always  have 
the  air  of  parody,  or  ludicrous  and  affected  singularity. 
All  the  world  laughs  at  Elegiac  stanzas  to  a  sucking-pig 
— a  Hymn  on  Washing-day — Sonnets  to  one's  grand- 
mother— or  Pindarics  on  gooseberry-pye ;  and  yet,  we  are 
afraid,  it  will  not  be  quite  easy  to  convince  Mr  Words- 
worth, that  the  same  ridicule  must  infallibly  attach  to 
most  of  the  pathetic  pieces  in  these  volumes.  To  satisfy 
our  readers,  however,  as  to  the  justice  of  this  and  our 
other  anticipations,  we  shall  proceed,  without  further 
preface,  to  lay  before  them  a  short  view  of  their  contents. 
The  first  is  a  kind  of  ode  '  to  the  Daisy,' — very  flat, 
feeble,  and  affected;  and  in  a  diction  as  artificial,  and  as 
much  encumbered  with  heavy  expletives,  as  the  theme  of 
an  unpractised  schoolboy.  The  two  following  stanzas 
will  serve  as  a  specimen. 

'  When  soothed  a  while  by  milder  airs, 
Thee  Winter  in  the  garland  wears 
That  thinly  shades  his  few  grey  hairs ; 

Spring  cannot  shun  thee; 
Whole  summer  fields  are  thine  by  right; 
And  Autumn,  melancholy  Wight ! 
Doth  in  thy  crimson  head  delight 

When   rains  are  on  thee. 
In  shoals  and  bands,  a  morrice  train, 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  3^ 

Thou  greet'st  the  Traveller  in  the  lane; 
If  welcome  once  thou  count'st  it  gain; 

Thou  art  not  daunted, 
Nor  car'st  if  thou  be  set  at  naught; 
And  oft  alone  in  nooks  remote 
We  meet  thee,  like  a  pleasant  thought, 

When  such  are  zvanted.'    I.  p.  2. 

The  scope  of  the  piece  is  to  say,  that  the  flower  is  found 
everywhere;  and  that  it  has  suggested  many  pleasant 
thoughts  to  the  author — some  chime  of  fancy  '  wrong  or 
right ' — some  feeling  of  devotion  '  more  or  less  ' — and 
other  elegancies  of  the  same  stamp.  It  ends  with  this 
unmeaning  prophecy. 

'Thou  long  the  poet's  praise  shalt  gain; 
Thou  wilt  be  more  beloved  by  men 
In  times  to  come;  thou  not  in  vain 
Art  Nature's  favourite.'    I.  6. 

The  next  is  called  '  Louisa,'  and  begins  in  this  dashing 
and  affected  manner. 

*  I  met  Louisa  in  the  shade ; 
And,  having  seen  that  lovely  maid, 
Why  should  I  fear  to  say 
That  she  is  ruddy,  fleet,  and  strong; 
And  down  the  rocks  can  leap  along, 
Like  rivulets  in  May?'    I.  7- 

Does  Mr  Wordsworth  really  imagine  that  this  is  at  all 
more  natural  or  engaging  than  the  ditties  of  our  common 
song  writers? 

A  little  farther  on  we  have  another  original  piece,  en- 
titled, '  The  Redbreast  and  the  Butterfly,'  of  which  our 
readers  will  probably  be  contented  with  the  first  stanza. 

'Art   thou   the  bird   whom   man  loves  best. 
The  pious  bird  with  the  scarlet  breast. 


32  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

Oiir  little  English  Robin; 
The  bird  that  comes  about  our  doors 
When  autumn  winds  are  sobbing? 
Art  thou  the  Peter  of  Norway  Boors? 

Their  Thomas  in  Finland, 

And  Russia  far  inland? 
The  bird,  whom  by  some  name  or  other 
All  men  who  know  thee  call  their  brother, 
The  darling  of  children  and  men? 
Could  Father  Adam  open  his  eyes, 
And  see  this  sight  beneath  the  skies. 
He'd  wish  to  close  them  again.'    I.  i6. 

This,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  *  Silly  Sooth  '  in  good 
earnest.  The  three  last  {sic^  lines  seem  to  be  downright 
raving. 

By  and  by,  we  have  a  piece  of  namby-pamby  '  to  the 
Small  Celandine,'  which  we  should  almost  have  taken  for 
a  professed  imitation  of  one  of  Mr  Philip's  prettyisms. 
Here  is  a  page  of  it. 

'  Comfort  have  thou  of  thy  merit. 
Kindly,   unassuming  spirit ! 
Careless    of   thy   neighbourhood. 
Thou  dost  show  thy  pleasant  face 
On  the  moor,  and  in  the  wood, 
In  the  lane; — there's  not  a  place. 
Howsoever  mean  it  be, 
But  'tis  good  enough  for  thee. 
Ill  befal  the  yellow  flowers. 
Children   of   the   flaring   hours ! 
Buttercups,  that  will  be  seen. 
Whether  we  will  see  or  no; 
Others,  too,  of  lofty  mien; 
They  have  done  as  worldlings  do. 
Taken  praise  that  should  be  thine. 
Little,  humble.  Celandine!     I.  25. 

After  talking  of  its  *  bright  coronet,* 


WORDSWORTH'S  POEMS  33 

the  ditty  is  wound  up  with  this  piece  o£  babyish  absurdity. 

'  Thou  art  not  beyond  the  moon, 
But  a  thing  "beneath  our  shoon;" 
Let,  as  old  Magellan  did. 
Others  roam  about  the  sea; 
Build  who  will  a  pyramid; 
Praise  it  is  enough  for  me, 
If  there  be  but  three  or  four 
Who  will  love  my  little  flower.'    I.  30. 

After  this  come  some  more  manly  Hnes  on  '  The  Char- 
acter of  the  Happy  Warrior,'  and  a  chivalrous  legend 
on  '  The  Horn  of  Egremont  Castle,'  which,  without  being 
very  good,  is  very  tolerable,  and  free  from  most  of  the 
author's  habitual  defects.  Then  follow  some  pretty,  but 
professedly  childish  verses,  on  a  kitten  playing  with  the 
falling  leaves.  There  is  rather  too  much  of  Mr  Ambrose 
Philips  here  and  there  in  this  piece  also ;  but  it  is  amiable 
and  lively. 

Further  on,  we  find  an  '  Ode  to  Duty,'  in  which  the  lofty 
vein  is  very  unsuccessfully  attempted.  This  is  the  con- 
cluding stanza. 

'  Stern  lawgiver !   yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace; 
Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face; 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds; 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong; 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens  through  thee 
are  fresh  and  strong.'    I.  y^- 

The  two  last    {sic"]   lines  seem  to  be  utterly  without 
meaning ;  at  least  we  have  no  sort  of  conception  in  what 
6 


34  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

sense  Duty  can  be  said  to  keep  the  old  skies  fresh,  and  the 
stars  from  wrong. 

The  next  piece,  entitled  '  The  Beggars,'  may  be  taken, 
we  fancy,  as  a  touchstone  of  Mr  Wordsworth's  merit. 
There  is  something  about  it  that  convinces  us  it  is  a 
favourite  of  the  author's ;  though  to  us,  we  will  confess,  it 
appears  to  be  a  very  paragon  of  silliness  and  affectation. 
Our  readers  shall  have  the  greater  part  of  it.  It  begins 
thus. 

'  She  had  a   tall   man's   height,    or   more ; 

No  bonnet  screen'd  her  from  the  heat; 

A  long  drab-coloured  cloak  she  wore, 

A  mantle  reaching  to  her  feet: 

What  other  dress  she  had  I  could  not  know ; 
Only  she  wore  a  cap  that  was  as  white  as  snow. 

'Before  me  begging  did  she  stand, 
Pouring  out  sorrows  like  a  sea; 
Grief  after  grief : — on  English  land 
Such  woes  I  knew  could  never  be; 
And  yet  a  boon  I  gave  her ;  for  the  creature 
Was  beautiful  to  see;  a  weed  of  glorious  feature!' 

-I.  77,  78. 

The  poet,  leaving  this  interesting  person,  falls  in  with 
two  ragged  boys  at  play,  and  '  like  that  woman's  face 
as  gold  is  like  to  gold.'  Here  is  the  conclusion  of  this 
memorable  adventure. 

'They  bolted  on  me  thus,  and  lo! 
Each  ready  with  a  plaintive  whine; 
Said  I,  "  Not  half  an  hour  ago 
Your  mother  has  had  alms  of  mine." 
"  That  cannot  be,"  one  answered,  "  She  is  dead." 
"  Nay  but  I  gave  her  pence,  and  she  will  buy  you  bread." 

"  She  has  been  dead,  Sir,  many  a  day." 
"  Sweet  boys,  you're  telling  me  a  lie ; 
"  It  was  your  mother,  as  I  say — " 


WORDSWORTH'S  POEMS  35 

And  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
"  Come,  come !"  cried  one ;  and,  without  more  ado, 
Oflf  to  some  other  play  they  both  together  flew.'     I.  79. 

'Alice  Fell '  is  a  performance  of  the  same  order.  The 
poet,  driving  into  Durham  in  a  postchaise,  hears  a  sort  of 
scream ;  and,  calling  to  the  post-boy  to  stop,  finds  a  little 
girl  crying  on  the  back  of  the  vehicle. 

"My  cloak!"  the  word  was  last  and  first, 
And  loud  and  bitterly  she  wept. 
As  if  her  very  heart  would  burst; 
And  down  from  ofif  the  chaise  she  leapt. 

"What  ails  you,  child?"  she  sobb'd,  "Look  here!" 

I  saw  it  in  the  wheel  entangled, 

A  weather  beaten  rag  as  e'er 

From  any  garden  scarecrow  dangled.'    I.  85,  86. 

They  then  extricate  the  torn  garment,  and  the  good- 
natured  bard  takes  the  child  into  the  carriage  along  with 
him.     The  narrative  proceeds — 

"  My  child,  in  Durham  do  you  dwell  ?" 
She  check'd  herself  in  her  distress, 
And  said,  "  My  name  is  Alice  Fell ; 
I'm  fatherless  and  motherless. 

And  I  to  Durham,  Sir,  belong." 
And  then,  as  if  the  thought  would  choke 
Her  very  heart,  her  grief  grew  strong; 
And  all  was  for  her  tatter'd  cloak. 

The  chaise  drove  on;  our  journey's  end 
Was  nigh;  and,  sitting  by  my  side, 
As  if  she'd  lost  her  only  friend 
She  wept,  nor  would  be  pacified. 

Up  to  the  tavern-door  we  post; 
Of  Alice  and  her  grief  I  told; 
And  I  gave  money  to  the  host, 
To  buy  a  new  cloak  for  the  old. 


36  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

"  And  let  it  be  of  dufifil  grey, 
As  warm  a  cloak  as  man  can  sell !" 
Proud  creature  was  she  the  next  da}'', 
The  little  orphan,  Alice  Fell !'    I.  p.  87,  88. 

If  the  printing  of  such  trash  as  this  be  not  felt  as  an 
insult  on  the  public  taste,  we  are  afraid  it  cannot  be  in- 
sulted. 

After  this  follows  the  longest  and  most  elaborate  poem 
in  the  volume,  under  the  title  of  '  Resolution  and  Inde- 
pendence.' The  poet,  roving  about  on  a  common  one 
fine  morning,  falls  into  pensive  musings  on  the  fate  of  the 
sons  of  song,  which  he  sums  up  in  this  fine  distich. 

'  We  poets  in  our  youth  begin  in  gladness ; 
But  thereof  comes  in  the  end  despondency  and  madness.' 

—I.  p.  92. 
In  the  midst  of  his  meditations — 

'  I  saw  a  man  before  me  unawares ; 
The  oldest  man  he  seemed  that  ever  wore  grey  hairs. 


Motionless  as  a  cloud  the  old  man  stood; 

That  heareth  not  the  loud  winds  when  they  call; 

And  moveth  altogether,  if  it  move  at  all. 

At  length,  himself  unsettling,  he  the  pond 

Stirred  with  his  staff,  and  fixedly  did  look 

Upon  the  muddy  water,  which  he  conn'd. 

As  if  he  had  been  reading  in  a  book: 

And  now  such  fre[e]dom  as  I  could  I  took; 

And,  drawing  to  his  side,  to  him  did  say, 

"  This  morning  gives  us  promise  of  a  glorious  day.' 


"What  kind  of  work  is  that  which  you  pursue? 

This  is  a  lonesome  place  for  one  like  you." 

He  answer'd  me  with  pleasure  and  surprise; 

And  there  was,  while  he  spake,  a  fire  about  his  eyes. 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  37 

He  told  me  that  he  to  this  pond  had  come 
To  gather  leeches,  being  old  and  poor: 
Employment  hazardous  and  wearisome! 
And  he  had  many  hardships  to  endure: 
From  pond  to  pond  he  roam'd,  from  moor  to  moor, 
Housing,  with  God's  good  help,  by  choice  or  chance : 
And  in  this  way  he  gain'd  an  honest  maintenance.' 

—I.  p.  92-95. 

Notwithstanding  the  distinctness  of  this  answer,  the 
poet,  it  seems,  was  so  wrapped  up  in  his  own  moody 
fancies,  that  he  could  not  attend  to  it. 

'  And  now,  not  knowing  what  the  old  man  had  said. 
My  question  eagerly  did  I  renew, 
"How  is  it  that  you  live,  and  what  is  it  you  do?" 
He  with  a  smile  did  then  his  words  repeat; 
And  said,  that,  gathering  leeches,  far  and  wide 
He  travelled;  stirring  thus  about  his  feet 
The  waters  of  the  ponds  where  they  abide. 
"Once  I  could  meet  with  them  on  every  side; 
But  they  have  dwindled  long  by  slow  decay; 
Yet  still  I  persevere,  and  find  them  where  I  may." 

—I.  p.  96,  97. 

This  very  interesting  account,  which  he  is  lucky  enough 
at  last  to  comprehend,  fills  the  poet  with  comfort  and 
admiration ;  and,  quite  glad  to  find  the  old  man  so  cheer- 
ful, he  resolves  to  take  a  lesson  of  contentedness  from 
him ;  and  the  poem  ends  with  this  pious  ejaculation — 

"  God,"  said  I,  "  be  my  help  and  stay  secure ; 
I'll  think  of  the  leech-gatherer  on  the  lonely  moor." 

—I.  p.  97. 

We  defy  the  bitterest  enemy  of  Mr  Wordsworth  to 
produce  anything  at  all  parallel  to  this  from  any  collection 
of  English  poetry,  or  even  from  the  specimens  of  his 
friend    Mr    Southey.      The    volume    ends    with    some 


42/32, 


38  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

sonnets,  in  a  very  different  measure,  of  which  we  shall  say 
something  by  and  by. 

The  first  poems  in  the  second  volume  were  written 
during  a  tour  in  Scotland.  The  first  is  a  very  dull  one 
about  Rob  Roy;  but  the  title  that  attracted  us  most  was 
'  an  Address  to  the  Sons  of  Burns,  after  visiting  their 
Father's  Grave.'  Never  was  anything,  however,  more 
miserable.     This  is  one  of  the  four  stanzas. 

<  Strong  bodied  if  ye  be  to  bear 
Intemperance   with   less   harm,  beware! 
But  if  your  father's  wit  ye  share, 

Then,  then  indeed, 
Ye  sons  of  Bums !    for  watchful  care 

There  will  be  need.'    II.  p.  29. 

The  next  is  a  very  tedious,  affected  performance,  called 
'  the  Yarrow  Unvisited.'  The  drift  of  it  is,  that  the  poet 
refused  to  visit  this  celebrated  stream,  because  he  had  '  a 
vision  of  his  own  '  about  it,  which  the  reality  might  per- 
haps undo ;  and,  for  this  no  less  fantastical  reason — 

"  Should  life  be  dull,  and  spirits  low, 
"  'Twill  soothe  us  in  our  sorrow, 
"  That  earth  has  something  yet  to  show, 
"  The  bonny  holms  of  Yarrow !"     II.  p.  35. 

After  this  we  come  to  some  ineffable  compositions  which 
the  poet  has  simply  entitled,  '  Moods  of  my  own  Mind.' 
One  begins — 

*  O  Nightingale !    thou  surely  art 
A  creature  of  a  fiery  heart — 
Thou  sing'st  as  if  the  god  of  wine 
Had  help'd  thee  to  a  valentine.'    II.  p.  42. 

This  is  the  whole  of  another — 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  39 

'  My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky : 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die ! 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety.'    II.  p.  44. 

A  third,  '  on  a  Sparrow's  Nest,'  runs  thus — 

'  Look,   five  blue   eggs   are   gleaming  there ! 
Few  visions  have  I  seen  more  fair, 
Nor  many  prospects  of  delight 
More  pleasing  than  that  simple  sight.'    II.  p.  53. 

The  charm  of  this  fine  prospect,  however,  was,  that 
it  reminded  him  of  another  nest  which  his  sister  Emmeline 
and  he  had  visited  in  their  childhood. 

'She  look'd  at  it  as  if  she  fear'd  it; 
Still   wishing,   dreading  to  be   near  it: 
Such  heart  was  in  her,  being  then 
A  little  prattler  among  men,'  &c.,  &c.    II.  p.  54. 

We  have  then  a  rapturous  mystical  ode  to  the  Cuckoo ; 
in  which  the  author,  striving  after  force  and  originaHty, 
produces  nothing  but  absurdity. 

'  O  cuckoo !    shall   I   call   thee  bird, 
Or  but  a  wandering  voice?'    II.  p.  57. 

And  then  he  says,  that  the  said  voice  seemed  to  pass 
from  hill  to  hill,  '  about  and  all  about !' — Afterwards  he 
assures  us,  it  tells  him  '  in  the  vale  of  visionary  hours,' 
and  calls  it  a  darling;  but  still  insists,  that  it  is 

'  No  bird ;  but  an  invisible  thing, 
A  voice, — a  mystery.'    II.  p.  58, 


* 


40  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

It  is  afterwards  '  a  hope ;'  and  '  a  love ;'  and,  finally, 

'O  blessed  bird!   the  earth  we  pace 
Again  appears  to  be 
An  unsubstantial,  faery  place, 
That  is  fit  home  for  thee!'     II.  p.  59. 

After  this  there  is  an  address  to  a  butterfly,  whom  he 
invites  to  visit  him,  in  these  simple  strains — 

'This  plot  of  orchard-ground  is  ours; 
My  trees  they  are,  my  sister's  flowers; 
Stop  here  whenever  you  are  weary.'    II.  p.  61. 

We  come  next  to  a  long  story  of  a  '  Blind  Highland 
Boy,'  who  lived  near  an  arm  of  the  sea,  and  had  taken  a 
most  unnatural  desire  to  venture  on  that  perilous  ele- 
ment. His  mother  did  all  she  could  to  prevent  him ;  but 
one  morning,  when  the  good  woman  was  out  of  the  way, 
he  got  into  a  vessel  of  his  own,  and  pushed  out  from  the 
shore. 

'In  such  a  vessel  ne'er  before 
Did  human  creature  leave  the  shore.*    II.  p.  72. 

And  then  we  are  told,  that  if  the  sea  should  get  rough, 
*  a  bee-hive  would  be  ship  as  safe.'  *  But  say,  what  is 
it?'  a  poetical  interlocutor  is  made  to  exclaim  most 
naturally ;  and  here  followeth  the  answer,  upon  which  all 
the  pathos  and  interest  of  the  story  depend. 

'  A  Household  Tub,  like  one  of  those 
Which  women  use  to  wash  their  clothes ! !'    I.  p.  72. 

This,  it  will  be  admitted,  is  carrying  the  matter  as  far 
as  it  will  well  go;  nor  is  there  anything, — down  to  the 
wiping  of  shoes,  or  the  evisceration  of  chickens, — ^which 
may  not  be  introduced  in  poetry,  if  this  is  tolerated.  A 
boat  is  sent  out  and  brings  the  boy  ashore,  who  being 


WORDSV/ORTH'S   POEMS  4i 

tolerably  frightened  we  suppose,  promises  to  go  to  sea  no 
more ;  and  so  the  story  ends. 

Then  we  have  a  poem,  called  '  the  Green  Linnet,'  which 
opens  with  the  poet's  telling  us; 

'A  whispering  leaf  is  now  my  joy, 
And  then  a  bird  will  be  the  toy 

That  doth  my  fancy  tether.'    II.  p.  79. 

and  closes  thus — 

'  While  thus  before  my  eyes  he  gleams, 
A  brother  of  the  leaves  he  seems ; 
When  in  a  moment  forth  he  teems 

His  little  song  in  gushes : 
As  if  it  pleas'd  him  to  disdain 
And  mock  the  form  which  he  did  feign. 
While  he  was  dancing  with  the  train 

Of  leaves  among  the  bushes.'    II.  p.  81. 

The  next  is  called  '  Star  Gazers.'  A  set  of  people 
peeping  through  a  telescope,  all  seem  to  come  away  dis- 
appointed with  the  sight ;  whereupon  thus  sweetly  moral- 
izeth  our  poet. 

'Yet,  showman,  where  can  lie  the  cause?    Shall  thy  implement 

have  blame, 
A  boaster,  that  when  he  is  tried,  fails,  and  is  put  to  shame? 
Or  is  it  good  as  others  are,  and  be  their  eyes  in  fault? 
Their  eyes,  or  minds?    or,  finally,  is  this  resplendent  vault? 

Or,  is  it  rather,  that  conceit  rapacious  is  and  strong, 
And  bounty  never  yields  so  much  but  it  seems  to  do  her  wrong? 
Or  is  it,  that  when  human  souls  a  journey  long  have  had. 
And  are  returned  into  themselves,  they  cannot  but  be  sad?* 

—II.  p.  88. 

There  are  then  some  really  sweet  and  amiable  verses  on 
a  French  lady,  separated  from  her  own  children,  fondling 
the  baby  of  a  neighbouring  cottager; — after  which  we 


42  THE    EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

have  this  quintessence  of  unmeaningness,  entitled,  '  Fore- 
sight.' 

'  That  is  work  which  I  am  rueing — 

Do  as  Charles  and  I  are  doing! 

Strawberry-blossoms,  one  and  all, 

We  must  spare  them — here  are  many: 

Look  at  it — the  flower  is  small, 

Small  and  low,  though  fair  as  any: 

Do  not  touch  it!    Summers  two 

I  am  older,  Anne,  than  you. 

Pull  the  primrose,  sister  Anne! 

Pull  as  many  as  you  can. 

Primroses,  the  spring  may  love  them — 

Summer  knows  but  little  of  them: 

Violets,  do  what  they  will, 

Wither'd  on  the  ground  must  lie: 

Daisies  will  be  daisies  still ; 

Daisies  they  must  live  and  die : 

Fill  your  lap,  and  fill  your  bosom. 

Only  spare  the  strawberry-blossom!'    II.  p.  115,  116. 

Afterwards  come  some  stanzas  about  an  echo  repeating 
a  cuckoo's  voice ;  here  is  one  for  a  sample — 

'Whence  the  voice?    from  air  or  earth? 
This  the  cuckoo  cannot  tell; 
But  a  startling  sound  had  birth. 
As  the  bird  must  know  full  well.'    II.  p.  123. 

Then  we  have  Elegiac  stanzas  '  to  the  Spade  of  a 
friend,'  beginning — 

'  Spade !   with  which  Wilkinson  hath  till'd  his  lands,' 

— but  too  dull  to  be  quoted  any  further. 

After  this  there  is  a  Minstrel's  Song,  on  the  Restoration 
of  Lord  Clifford  the  Shepherd,  which  is  in  a  very  different 
strain  of  poetry ;  and  then  the  volume  is  wound  up  with 
an  '  Ode,'  with  no  other  title  but  the  motto,  Paulo  majora 


WORDSWORTH'S  POEMS  43 

canamns.  This  is,  beyond  all  doubt,  the  most  illegible 
and  unintelligible  part  of  the  publication.  We  can  pre- 
tend to  give  no  analysis  or  explanation  of  it ; — our  readers 
must  make  what  they  can  of  the  following  extracts. 

* But  there's  a  tree,  of  many  one, 

A  single  field  which  I  have  look'd  upon, 
Both  of  them  speak  of  something  that  is  gone: 
The    pansy   at    my    feet 
Doth  the  same  tale  repeat : 
Whither  is  fled  the  visionary  gleam? 
Where  is  it  now,  the  glory  and  the  dream?'    II.  150. 


O  joy!    that  in  our  embers 
Is  something  that  doth  live, 
That  nature  yet  remembers 
What  was  so  fugitive! 
The  thought  of  our  past  years  in  me  doth  breed 
Perpetual  benedictions :    not  indeed 
For  that  which  is  most  worthy  to  be  blest : 
Delight  and  liberty,  the  simple  creed 
Of  childhood,  whether  fluttering  or  at  rest, 
With  new-born  hope  forever  in  his  breast : — 
Not  for  these  I  raise 
The  song  of  thanks  and  praise; 
But  for  those  obstinate  questionings 
Of  sense  and  outward  things. 
Fallings  from  us,  vanishings; 
Blank   misgivings   of   a   creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realiz'd, 
High  instincts,  before  which  our  mortal  nature 
Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing  surpriz'd : 
But  for  those  first  affections. 
Those  shadowy  recollections. 

Which  be  they  what  they  may. 
Are  yet  the  fountain  light  of  all  our  day. 
Are  yet  a  master  light  of  all  our  feeling 

Uphold  us,  cherish  us,  and  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 


44  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

Of  the  eternal  silence:    truths  that  wake, 

To  perish  never; 
Which  neither  listlessness,  nor  mad  endeavour, 

Nor  man  nor  boy, 
Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy, 
Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy! 

Hence,  in  a  season  of  calm  weather. 

Though  inland  far  we  be. 
Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 

Which  brought  us  hither. 
Can  in  a  moment  travel  thither. 
And  see  the  children  sport  upon  the  shore, 
And  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore.'    II.  I54~6. 

We  have  thus  gone  through  this  publication,  with  a 
view  to  enable  our  readers  to  determine,  whether  the 
author  of  the  verses  which  have  now  been  exhibited,  is 
entitled  to  claim  the  honours  of  an  improver  or  restorer 
of  our  poetry,  and  to  found  a  new  school  to  supersede  or 
new-model  all  our  maxims  on  this  subject.  If  we  were 
to  stop  here,  we  do  not  think  that  Mr  Wordsworth,  or 
his  admirers,  would  have  any  reason  to  complain;  for 
what  we  have  now  quoted  is  undeniably  the  most  peculiar 
and  characteristic  part  of  his  publication,  and  must  be 
defended  and  applauded  if  the  merit  or  originality  of 
his  system  is  to  be  seriously  maintained.  In  our  own 
opinion,  however,  the  demerit  of  that  system  cannot  be 
fairly  appretiated,  until  it  be  shown,  that  the  author  of 
the  bad  verses  which  we  have  already  extracted,  can  write 
good  verses  when  he  pleases ;  and  that,  in  point  of  fact,  he 
does  always  write  good  verses,  when,  by  any  accident,  he 
is  led  to  abandon  his  system,  and  to  transgress  the  laws 
of  that  school  which  he  would  fain  establish  on  the  ruin 
of  all  existing  authority. 

The  length  to  which  our  extracts  and  observations  have 
already  extended,   necessarily  restrains  us  within  more 


WORDSWORTH'S   POEMS  45 

narrow  limits  in  this  part  of  our  citations ;  but  it  will  not 
require  much  labour  to  find  a  pretty  decided  contrast  to 
some  of  the  passages  we  have  already  detailed.  The  song 
on  the  restoration  of  Lord  Clifford  is  put  into  the  mouth 
of  an  ancient  minstrel  of  the  family ;  and  in  composing  it, 
the  author  was  led,  therefore,  almost  irresistibly  to  adopt 
the  manner  and  phraseology  that  is  understood  to  be 
connected  with  that  sort  of  composition,  and  to  throw 
aside  his  own  babyish  incidents  and  fantastical  sensibili- 
ties. How  he  has  succeeded,  the  reader  will  be  able  to 
judge  from  the  few  following  extracts. 

[Quotes  fifty-six  lines  of  Lord  Clifford.] 

All  English  writers  of  sonnets  have  imitated  Milton; 
and,  in  this  way,  Mr  Wordsworth,  when  he  writes  son- 
nets, escapes  again  from  the  trammels  of  his  own  unfortu- 
nate system ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that  his  sonnets  are 
as  much  superior  to  the  greater  part  of  his  other  poems,  as 
Milton's  sonnets  are  superior  to  his. 

[Quotes  the  sonnets  On  the  Extinction  of  the  Venetian  Re- 
public, London,  and  /  griev'd  for  Buonaparte.] 

When  we  look  at  these,  and  many  still  finer  passages, 
in  the  writings  of  this  author,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel 
a  mixtures  of  indignation  and  compassion,  at  that  strange 
infatuation  which  has  bound  him  up  from  the  fair  exer- 
cise of  his  talents,  and  withheld  from  the  public  the  many 
excellent  productions  that  would  otherwise  have  taken  the 
place  of  the  trash  now  before  us.  Even  in  the  worst  of 
these  productions,  there  are,  no  doubt,  occasional  little 
traits  of  delicate  feeling  and  original  fancy ;  but  these  are 
quite  lost  and  obscured  in  the  mass  of  childishness  and 
insipidity  with  which  they  are  incorporated;  nor  can  any 
thing  give  us  a  more  melancholy  view  of  the  debasing 


46  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

effects  of  this  miserable  theory,  than  that  it  has  given 
ordinary  men  a  right  to  wonder  at  the  folly  and  pre- 
sumption of  a  man  gifted  like  Mr  Wordsworth,  and 
made  him  appear,  in  his  second  avowed  publication,  like 
a  bad  imitator  of  the  worst  of  his  former  productions. 

We  venture  to  hope,  that  there  is  now  an  end  of  this 
folly ;  and  that,  like  other  follies,  it  will  be  found  to  have 
cured  itself  by  the  extravagances  resulting  from  its  un- 
bridled indulgence.  In  this  point  of  view,  the  publication 
of  the  volumes  before  us  may  ultimately  be  of  service  to 
the  good  cause  of  literature.  Many  a  generous  rebel,  it  is 
said,  has  been  reclaimed  to  his  allegiance  by  the  spectacle 
of  lawless  outrage  and  excess  presented  in  the  conduct  of 
the  insurgents;  and  we  think  there  is  every  reason  to 
hope,  that  the  lamentable  consequences  which  have  re- 
sulted from  Mr  Wordsworth's  open  violation  of  the 
established  laws  of  poetry,  will  operate  as  a  wholesome 
warning  to  those  who  might  otherwise  have  been  seduced 
by  his  example,  and  be  the  means  of  restoring  to  that 
antient  and  venerable  code  its  due  honour  and  authority. 
— The  Edinburgh  Review. 


4ry    o-'^Cs-vvwtp   }flir»^\Si 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 

Christabel:  Kiibla  Khan,  a  Vision.     The  Pains  of  Sleep. 

By  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Esq,     London,  Murray,  1816. 

The  advertisement  by  which  this  work  was  announced 
to  the  publick,  carried  in  its  front  a  recommendation  from 
Lord  Byron, — who,  it  seems,  has  somewhere  praised 
Christabel,  as  '  a  wild  and  singularly  original  and  beauti- 
ful poem.'  Great  as  the  noble  bard's  merits  undoubtedly 
are  in  poetry,  some  of  his  latest  publications  dispose  us  to 
distrust  his  authority,  where  the  question  is  what  ought 
to  meet  the  public  eye ;  and  the  works  before  us  afford  an 
additional  proof,  that  his  judgment  on  such  matters  is  not 
absolutely  to  be  relied  on.  Moreover,  we  are  a  little  in- 
clined to  doubt  the  value  of  the  praise  which  one  poet 
lends  another.  It  seems  now-a-days  to  be  the  practice  of 
that  once  irritable  race  to  laud  each  other  without  bounds ; 
and  one  can  hardly  avoid  suspecting,  that  what  is  thus 
lavishly  advanced  may  be  laid  out  with  a  view  to  being 
repaid  with  interest.  Mr  Coleridge,  however,  must  be 
judged  by  his  own  merits. 

It  is  remarked,  by  the  writers  upon  the  Bathos,  that  the 
true  profound  is  surely  known  by  one  quality — its  being 
wholly  bottomless;  insomuch,  that  when  you  think  you 
have  attained  its  utmost  depth  in  the  work  of  some  of  its 
great  masters,  another,  or  peradventure  the  same,  aston- 
ishes you,  immediately  after,  by  a  plunge  so  much  more 
vigorous,  as  to  outdo  all  his  former  outdoings.  So  it 
seems  to  be  with  the  new  school,  or,  as  they  may  be 
termed,  the  wild  or  lawless  poets.  After  we  had  been 
admiring  their  extravagance  for  many  years,  and  mar- 
velling at  the  ease  and  rapidity  with  which  one  exceeded 

47 


48  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

another  in  the  unmeaning  or  infantine,  until  not  an  idea 
was  left  in  the  rhyme — or  in  the  insane,  until  we  had 
reached  something  that  seemed  the  untamed  effusion  of  an 
author  whose  thoughts  were  rather  more  free  than  his 
actions — forth  steps  Mr  Coleridge,  like  a  giant  refreshed 
with  sleep,  and  as  if  to  redeem  his  character  after  so  long 
a  silence,  ('  his  poetic  powers  having  been,  he  says,  from 
1808  till  very  lately,  in  a  state  of  suspended  animation,' 
p.  V.)  and  breaks  out  in  these  precise  words — 

"Tis  the  middle  of  night  by  the  castle  clock, 

And  the  owls  have  awaken'd  the  crowing  cock; 

Tu whit!  Tu  whoo! 

And  hark,  again !   the  crowing  cock. 

How  drowsily  it  crew/ 
*  Sir  Leoline,  the  Baron  rich, 

Hath  a  toothless  mastiff  bitch; 

From  her  kennel  beneath  the  rock 

She  makes  answer  to  the  clock, 

Four  for  the  quarters,  and  twelve  for  the  hour: 

Ever  and  aye,  moonshine  or  shower, 

Sixteen  short  howls,  not  over  loud ; 

Some  say  she  sees  my  lady's  shroud.' 
'Is  the  night  chilly  and  dark? 

The  night  is  chilly,  but  not  dark.'    p.  3,  4. 

It  is  probable  that  Lord  Byron  may  have  had  this  pas- 
sage in  his  eye,  when  he  called  the  poem  '  wild '  and 
'  original ;'  but  how  he  discovered  it  to  be  '  beautiful,'  is 
not  quite  so  easy  for  us  to  imagine. 

Much  of  the  art  of  the  wild  writers  consists  in  sudden 
transitions — opening  eagerly  upon  some  topic,  and  then 
flying  from  it  immediately.  This  indeed  is  known  to  the 
medical  men,  who  not  unfrequently  have  the  care  of  them, 
as  an  unerring  symptom.  Accordingly,  here  we  take 
leave  of  the  Mastifif  Bitch,  and  lose  sight  of  her  entirely, 
upon  the  entrance  of  another  personage  of  a  higher  degree. 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRIST  ABEL  49 

'The  lovely  Lady  Christabel, 
Whom  her  father  loves  so  well ' — 

And  who,  it  seems,  has  been  rambling  about  all  night, 
having,  the  night  before,  had  dreams  about  her  lover, 
which  '  made  her  moan  and  leap.'  While  kneeling,  in 
the  course  of  her  rambles,  at  an  old  oak,  she  hears  a  noise 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stump,  and  going  round,  finds, 
to  her  great  surprize,  another  fair  damsel  in  white  silk, 
but  with  her  dress  and  hair  in  some  disorder ;  at  the  men- 
tion of  whom,  the  poet  takes  fright,  not,  as  might  be 
imagined,  because  of  her  disorder,  but  on  account  of  her 
beauty  and  her  fair  attire — 

'  I  guess,  'twas  frightful  there  to  see 
A  lady  so  richly  clad  as  she — 
Beautiful  exceedingly !' 

Christabel  naturally  asks  who  she  is,  and  is  answered, 
at  some  length,  that  her  name  is  Geraldine ;  that  she  was, 
on  the  morning  before,  seized  by  five  warriors,  who  tied 
her  on  a  white  horse,  and  drove  her  on,  they  themselves 
following,  also  on  white  horses ;  and  that  they  had  rode 
all  night.  Her  narrative  now  gets  to  be  a  little  contra- 
dictory, which  gives  rise  to  unpleasant  suspicions.  She 
protests  vehemently,  and  with  oaths,  that  she  has  no  idea 
who  the  men  were ;  only  that  one  of  them,  the  tallest  of  the 
five,  took  her  and  placed  her  under  the  tree,  and  that  they 
all  went  away,  she  knew  not  whither;  but  how  long  she 
had  remained  there  she  cannot  tell — 

'  Nor  do  I  know  how  long  it  is, 
For  I  have  lain  in  fits,  I  wis;' 

— although  she  had  previously  kept  a  pretty  exact  account 
of  the  time.    The  two  ladies  then  go  home  together,  after 
this  satisfactory  explanation,  which  appears  to  have  con- 
7 


5©  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

veyed  to  the  intelligent  mind  of  Lady  C.  every  requisite  in- 
formation. They  arrive  at  the  castle,  and  pass  the  night  in 
the  same  bed-room ;  not  to  disturb  Sir  Leoline,  who,  it 
seems,  was  poorly  at  the  time,  and,  of  course,  must  have 
been  called  up  to  speak  to  the  chambermaids,  and  have  the 
sheets  aired,  if  Lady  G.  had  had  a  room  to  herself.  They 
do  not  get  to  their  bed,  however  in  the  poem,  quite  so 
easily  as  we  have  carried  them.  They  first  cross  the  moat, 
and  Lady  C.  '  took  the  key  that  fitted  well,'  and  opened  a 
little  door,  '  all  in  the  middle  of  the  gate.'  Lady  G.  then 
sinks  down  '  belike  through  pain ;'  but  it  should  seem  more 
probably  from  laziness ;  for  her  fair  companion  having 
lifted  her  up,  and  carried  her  a  little  way,  she  then  walks 
on  '  as  she  were  not  in  pain.'  Then  they  cross  the  court — ■ 
but  we  must  give  this  in  the  poet's  words,  for  he  seems  so 
pleased  with  them,  that  he  inserts  them  twice  over  in  the 
space  of  ten  lines. 

*  So  free  from  danger,  free  from  fear, 
They  crossed  the  court — right  glad  they  were.' 

Lady  C.  is  desirous  of  a  little  conversation  on  the  way, 
but  Lady  G.  will  not  indulge  her  Ladyship,  saying  she  is 
too  much  tired  to  speak.  We  now  meet  our  old  friend, 
the  mastiflf  bitch,  who  is  much  too  important  a  person  to 
be  slightly  passed  by — 

'Outside  her  kennel,  the  mastiff  old 
Lay  fast  asleep,  in  moonshine  cold. 
The  mastiff  old  did  not  awake, 
Yet  she  an  angry  moan  did  make! 
And  what  can  ail  the  mastiff  bitch? 
Never  till  now  she  uttered  yell 
Beneath  the  eye  of  Christabel. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  owlet's  scritch : 
For  what  can  ail  the  mastiff  bitch?' 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRIST  ABEL  5' 

Whatever  it  may  be  that  ails  the  bitch,  the  ladies  pass 
forward,  and  take  off  their  shoes,  and  tread  softly  all  the 
way  upstairs,  as  Christabel  observes  that  her  father  is  a 
bad  sleeper.  At  last,  however,  they  do  arrive  at  the  bed- 
room, and  comfort  themselves  with  a  dram  of  some  home- 
made liquor,  which  proves  to  be  very  old ;  for  it  was  made 
by  Lady  C.'s  mother;  and  when  her  new  friend  asks  if 
she  thinks  the  old  lady  will  take  her  part,  she  answers, 
that  this  is  out  of  the  question,  in  as  much  as  she  happened 
to  die  in  childbed  of  her.  The  mention  of  the  old  lady, 
however,  gives  occasion  to  the  following  pathetic  couplet. 
— Christabel  says, 

*  O  mother  dear,  that  thou  wert  here ! 
I  would,  said  Geraldine,  she  were!' 

A  very  mysterious  conversation  next  takes  place  be- 
tween Lady  Geraldine  and  the  old  gentlewoman's  ghost, 
which  proving  extremely  fatiguing  to  her,  she  again  has 
recourse  to  the  bottle — and  with  excellent  effect,  as  ap- 
pears by  these  lines. 

'Again  the  wild-flower  wine  she  drank; 
Her  fair  large  eyes  'gan  glitter  bright. 
And  from  the  floor  whereon  she  sank, 
The  lofty  Lady  stood  upright: 

She  was  most  beautiful  to  see. 

Like  a  Lady  of  a  far  countree.* 

— From  which,  we  may  gather  among  other  points,  the 
exceeding  great  beauty  of  all  women  who  live  in  a  dis- 
tant place,  no  matter  where.  The  effects  of  the  cordial 
speedily  begin  to  appear;  as  no  one,  we  imagine,  will 
doubt,  that  to  its  influence  must  be  ascribed  the  following 
speech — 


52  THE   EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

'  And  thus  the  lofty  lady  spake— 
All  they,  who  live  in  the  upper  sky, 
Do  love  you,  holy  Christabel ! 
And  you  love  them — and  for  their  sake 
And  for  the  good  which  me  befel, 
Even  I  in  my  degree  will  try. 
Fair  maiden,  to  requite  you  well.' 

Before  going  to  bed,  Lady  G.  kneels  to  pray,  and  desires 
her  friend  to  undress,  and  lie  down ;  which  she  does  '  in 
her  loveliness;'  but  being  curious,  she  leans  'on  her 
elbow,'  and  looks  toward  the  fair  devotee, — where  she 
sees  something  which  the  poet  does  not  think  fit  to  tell  us 
very  explicitly. 

'  Her  silken  robe,  and  inner  vest, 
Dropt  to  her  feet,  and  full  in  view, 
Behold!   her  bosom  and  half  her  side — 
A  sight  to  dream  of,  not  to  tell ! 
And  she  is  to  sleep  by  Christabel.' 

She  soon  rises,  however,  from  her  knees ;  and  as  it  was 
not  a  double-bedded  room,  she  turns  in  to  Lady  Christabel, 
taking  only  '  two  paces  and  a  stride.'  She  then  clasps 
her  tight  in  her  arms,  and  mutters  a  very  dark  spell,  which 
we  apprehend  the  poet  manufactured  by  shaking  words 
together  at  random;  for  it  is  impossible  to  fancy  that  he 
can  annex  any  meaning  whatever  to  it.  This  is  the  end 
of  it. 

'  But  vainly  thou  warrest. 

For  this  is  alone  in 
Thy  power  to  declare, 
That  in  the  dim  forest 
Thou  heard'st  a  low  moaning, 
And  found'st  a  bright  lady,  surpassingly  fair : 
And  didst  bring  her  home  with  thee  in  love  and  in  charity, 
To  shield  her  and  shelter  her  from  the  damp  air.' 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRIST  ABEL  53 

The  consequence  of  this  incantation  is,  that  Lady 
Christabel  has  a  strange  dream — and  when  she  awakes, 
her  first  exclamation  is,  *  Sure  I  have  sinn'd ' — '  Now 
heaven  be  praised  if  all  be  well !'  Being  still  perplexed 
with  the  remembrance  of  her  '  too  lively '  dream — she 
then  dresses  herself,  and  modestly  prays  to  be  forgiven 
for  '  her  sins  unknown.'  The  two  companions  now  go 
to  the  Baron's  parlour,  and  Geraldine  tells  her  story  to 
him.  This,  however,  the  poet  judiciously  leaves  out,  and 
only  signifies  that  the  Baron  recognized  in  her  the  daugh- 
ter of  his  old  friend  Sir  Roland,  with  whom  he  had  had 
a  deadly  quarrel.  Now,  however,  he  despatches  his  tame 
poet,  or  laureate,  called  Bard  Bracy,  to  invite  him  and  his 
family  over,  promising  to  forgive  every  thing,  and  even 
make  an  apology  for  what  had  passed.  To  understand 
what  follows,  we  own,  surpasses  our  comprehension.  Mr 
Bracy,  the  poet,  recounts  a  strange  dream  he  has  just  had, 
of  a  dove  being  almost  strangled  by  a  snake ;  whereupon 
the  Lady  Geraldine  falls  a  hissing,  and  her  eyes  grow 
small,  like  a  serpent's, — or  at  least  so  they  seem  to  her 
friend ;  who  begs  her  father  to  '  send  away  that  woman.' 
Upon  this  the  Baron  falls  into  a  passion,  as  if  he  had  dis- 
covered that  his  daughter  had  been  seduced ;  at  least,  we 
can  understand  him  in  no  other  sense,  though  no  hint  of 
such  a  kind  is  given ;  but  on  the  contrary,  she  is  painted  to 
the  last  moment  as  full  of  innocence  and  purity. — Never- 
theless, 

*  His  heart  was  cleft  with  pain  and  rage, 
His  cheeks  they  quiver'd,  his  eyes  were  wild, 
Dishonour'd  thus  in  his  old  age; 
Dishonour'd  by  his  only  child; 
And  all  his  hospitality 
To  th'  insulted  daughter  of  his  friend 
By  more  than  woman's  jealousy, 
Brought  thus  to  a  disgraceful  end. — ' 


54  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

Nothing  further  is  said  to  explain  the  mystery ;  but  there 
follows  incontinently,  what  is  termed  '  The  conclusion 
of  Part  the  Second/  And  as  we  are  pretty  confident  that 
Mr  Coleridge  holds  this  passage  in  the  highest  estimation ; 
that  he  prizes  it  more  than  any  other  part  of  '  that  wild, 
and  singularly  original  and  beautiful  poem  Christabel,' 
excepting  always  the  two  passages  touching  the  '  toothless 
mastiff  bitch ;'  we  shall  extract  it  for  the  amazement  of 
our  readers — premising  our  own  frank  avowal  that  we  are 
wholly  unable  to  divine  the  meaning  of  any  portion  of  it. 

'A  little  child,  a  limber  elf, 
Singing,  dancing  to  itself, 
A  fairy  thing  with  red  round  cheeks, 
That  always  finds  and  never  seeks; 
Makes  such  a  vision  to  the  sight 
As  fills  a  father's  eyes  with  light; 
And  pleasures  flow  in  so  thick  and  fast 
Upon  his  heart,  that  he  at  last 
Must  needs  express  his  love's  excess 
With  words  of  unmeant  bitterness. 
Perhaps  'tis  pretty  to  force  together 
Thoughts  so  all  unlike  each  other; 
To  mutter  and  mock  a  broken  charm, 
To  dally  with  wrong  that  does  no  harm 
Perhaps  'tis  tender  too,  and  pretty, 
At  each  wild  word  to  feel  within 
A  sweet  recoil  of  love  and  pity. 
And  what  if  in  a  world  of  sin 
(O  sorrow  and  shame  should  this  be  true!)    * 
Such  giddiness  of  heart  and  brain 
Comes  seldom  save  from  rage  and  pain. 
So  talks  as  it's  most  used  to  do.' 

Hence  endeth  the  Second  Part,  and,  in  truth,  the  *  singu- 
lar '  poem  itself ;  for  the  author  has  not  yet  written,  or, 
as  he  phrases  it,  *  embodied  in  verse,'  the  *  three  parts 
yet  to  come;' — though  he  trusts  he  shall  be  able  to  do 
so  '  in  the  course  of  the  present  year.* 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRIST  ABEL  55 

One  word  as  to  the  metre  of  Christabel,  or,  as  Mr  Cole- 
ridge terms  it,  '  the  Christabel ' — happily  enough ;  for 
indeed  we  doubt  if  the  peculiar  force  of  the  definite  article 
was  ever  more  strongly  exemplified.  He  says,  that 
though  the  reader  may  fancy  there  prevails  a  great  irregu- 
larity in  the  metre,  some  lines  being  of  four,  others  of 
twelve  syllables,  yet  in  reality  it  is  quite  regular;  only 
that  it  is  '  founded  on  a  new  principle,  namely,  that  of 
counting  in  each  line  the  accents,  not  the  syllables.'  We 
say  nothing  of  the  monstrous  assurance  of  any  man  com- 
ing forward  coolly  at  this  time  of  day,  and  telling  the 
readers  of  English  poetry,  whose  ear  has  been  tuned  to 
the  lays  of  Spenser,  Milton,  Dryden,  and  Pope,  that  he 
makes  his  metre  '  on  a  new  principle !'  but  we  utterly 
deny  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  and  defy  him  to  show  us 
any  principle  upon  which  his  lines  can  be  conceived  to 
tally.  We  give  two  or  three  specimens  to  confound  at 
once  this  miserable  piece  of  coxcombry  and  shuffling.  Let 
our  *  wild,  and  singularly  original  and  beautiful '  author, 
show  us  how  these  lines  agree  either  in  number  of  accents 
or  of  feet. 

'Ah  wel-a-day!' 
'  For  this  is  alone  in — * 
'  And  didst  bring  her  home  with  thee  in  love  and  in  charity  '— 
'  I  pray  you  drink  this  cordial  wine  ' — 

*  Sir  Leoline  ' — 

'  And  found  a  bright  lady  surpassingly  fair ' — 

*  Tu — whit ! Tu — whoo !' 

Kuhla  Khan  is  given  to  the  public,  it  seems,  '  at  the 
request  of  a  poet  of  great  and  deserved  celebrity;' — but 
whether  Lord  Byron,  the  praiser  of  '  the  Christabel,'  or 
the  Laureate,  the  praiser  of  Princes,  we  are  not  informed. 
As  far  as  Mr  Coleridge's  '  own  opinions  are  concerned,' 
it   is   published,   *  not   upon   the   ground   of   any   poetic 


56  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

merits,'  but  '  as  a  psychological  curiosity  !'  In  these 
opinions  of  the  candid  author,  we  entirely  concur ;  but  for 
this  reason  we  hardly  think  it  was  necessary  to  give  the 
minute  detail  which  the  Preface  contains,  of  the  circum- 
stances attending  its  composition.  Had  the  question  re- 
garded 'Paradise  Lost,'  or  '  Dry  den's  Ode,'  we  could 
not  have  had  a  more  particular  account  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  it  was  composed.  It  was  in  the  year 
1797,  and  in  the  summer  season.  Mr  Coleridge  was  in 
bad  health ; — the  particular  disease  is  not  given ;  but  the 
careful  reader  will  form  his  own  conjectures.  He  had 
retired  very  prudently  to  a  lonely  farm-house;  and  who- 
ever would  see  the  place  which  gave  birth  to  the  '  psych- 
ological curiosity,'  may  find  his  way  thither  without  a 
guide;  for  it  is  situated  on  the  confines  of  Somerset  and 
Devonshire,  and  on  the  Exmoor  part  of  the  boundary; 
and  it  is,  moreover,  between  Porlock  and  Linton.  In  that 
farm-house,  he  had  a  slight  indisposition,  and  had  taken 
an  anodyne,  which  threw  him  into  a  deep  sleep  in  his 
chair  (whether  after  dinner  or  not  he  omits  to  state), 
*  at  the  moment  that  he  was  reading  a  sentence  in  Pur- 
chas's  Pilgrims,'  relative  to  a  palace  of  Kubla  Khan. 
The  effects  of  the  anodyne,  and  the  sentence  together, 
were  prodigious :  They  produced  the  '  curiosity '  now 
before  us;  for,  during  his  three-hours  sleep,  Mr  Cole- 
ridge '  has  the  most  vivid  confidence  that  he  could  not 
have  composed  less  than  from  two  to  three  hundred  lines.' 
On  awaking,  he  '  instantly  and  eagerly '  wrote  down  the 
verses  here  published;  when  he  was  (he  says,  'unfortu- 
nately ')  called  out  by  a  '  person  on  business  from  Por- 
lock, and  detained  by  him  above  an  hour;'  and  when  he 
returned  the  vision  was  gone.  The  lines  here  given  smell 
strongly,  it  must  be  owned,  of  the  anodyne ;  and,  but  that 
an  under  dose  of  a  sedative  produces  contrary  effects,  we 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRIST  ABEL  57 

should  inevitably  have  been  lulled  by  them  into  forgetful- 
ness  of  all  things.  Perhaps  a  dozen  more  such  lines  as 
the  following  would  reduce  the  most  irritable  of  critics  to 
a  state  of  inaction. 

*A  damsel  with  a  dulcimer 

In  a  vision  once  I  saw : 

It  was  an  Abyssinian  maid 

And  on  her  dulcimer  she  play'd, 

Singing  of  Mount  Abora. 

Could  I  revive  within  me 

Her  symphony  and  song, 

To  such  a  deep  delight  'twould  win  me, 
That  with  music  loud  and  long, 
I  would  build  that  dome  in  air, 
That  sunny  dome !   those  caves  of  ice ! 
And  all  who  heard  should  see  them  there. 
And  all  should  cry,  Beware !    Beware ! 
His  flashing  eyes,  his  floating  hair ! 
Weave  a  circle  round  him  thrice. 
And  close  your  eyes  with  holy  dread: 
For  he  on  honey-dew  hath  fed,'  &c.  &c. 

There  is  a  good  deal  more  altogether  as  exquisite — and 
in  particular  a  fine  description  of  a  wood,  '  ancient  as  the 
hills;'  and  'folding  sunny  spots  of  greenery!'  But  we 
suppose  this  specimen  will  be  sufficient. 

Persons  in  this  poet's  unhappy  condition,  generally  feel 
the  want  of  sleep  as  the  worst  of  their  evils ;  but  there  are 
instances,  too,  in  the  history  of  the  disease,  of  sleep  being 
attended  with  new  agony,  as  if  the  waking  thoughts,  how 
wild  and  turbulent  soever,  had  still  been  under  some  slight 
restraint,  which  sleep  instantly  removed.  Mr  Coleridge 
appears  to  have  experienced  this  symptom,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  title  of  his  third  poem,  '  The  Pains  of 
Sleep;'  and,  in  truth,  from  its  composition — which  is 
mere  raving,  without  any  thing  more  affecting  than  a  num- 


58  THE   EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

ber  of  incoherent  words,  expressive  of  extravagance  and 
incongruity. — We  need  give  no  specimen  of  it. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  look  upon  this  publication  as  one 
of  the  most  notable  pieces  of  impertinence  of  which  the 
press  has  lately  been  guilty;  and  one  of  the  boldest  ex- 
periments that  has  yet  been  made  on  the  patience  or 
understanding  of  the  public.  It  is  impossible,  however, 
to  dismiss  it,  without  a  remark  or  two.  The  other  pro- 
ductions of  the  Lake  School  have  generally  exhibited 
talents  thrown  away  upon  subjects  so  mean,  that  no  power 
of  genius  could  ennoble  them ;  or  perverted  and  rendered 
useless  by  a  false  theory  of  poetical  composition.  But 
even  in  the  worst  of  them,  if  we  except  the  White  Doe  of 
Mr  Wordsworth  and  some  of  the  laureate  odes,  there 
were  always  some  gleams  of  feeling  or  of  fancy.  But  the 
thing  now  before  us  is  utterly  destitute  of  value.  It  ex- 
hibits from  beginning  to  end  not  a  ray  of  genius ;  and  we 
defy  any  man  to  point  out  a  passage  of  poetical  merit  in 
any  of  the  three  pieces  which  it  contains,  except,  perhaps, 
the  following  lines  in  p.  32,  and  even  these  are  not  very 
brilliant ;  nor  is  the  leading  thought  original — 

*  Alas !   they  had  been  friends  in  youth ; 
But  whispering  tongues  can  poison  truth; 
And  constancy  lives  in  realms  above; 
And  life  is  thorny;  and  youth  is  vain; 
And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love, 
Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain.' 

With  this  one  exception,  there  is  literally  not  one  couplet 
in  the  publication  before  us  which  would  be  reckoned 
poetry,  or  even  sense,  were  it  found  in  the  corner  of  a 
newspaper  or  upon  the  window  of  an  inn.  Must  we  then 
be  doomed  to  hear  such  a  mixture  of  raving  and  driv'ling, 
extolled  as  the  work  of  a  ' zvild  and  original'  genitts, 
simply  because  Mr  Coleridge  has  now  and  then  written 


COLERIDGE'S   CHRISTABEL  59 

fine  verses,  and  a  brother  poet  chooses,  in  his  milder  mood, 
to  laud  him  from  courtesy  or  from  interest  ?  And  are  such 
panegyrics  to  be  echoed  by  the  mean  tools  of  a  political 
faction,  because  they  relate  to  one  whose  daily  prose  is 
understood  to  be  dedicated  to  the  support  of  all  that 
courtiers  think  should  be  supported?  If  it  be  true  that  the 
author  has  thus  earned  the  patronage  of  those  liberal  dis- 
pensers of  bounty,  we  can  have  no  objection  that  they 
should  give  him  proper  proofs  of  their  gratitude;  but  we 
cannot  help  wishing,  for  his  sake,  as  well  as  our  own,  that 
they  would  pay  in  solid  pudding  instead  of  empty  praise ; 
and  adhere,  at  least  in  this  instance,  to  the  good  old  sys- 
tem of  rewarding  their  champions  with  places  and  pen- 
sions, instead  of  puffing  their  bad  poetry,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  cram  their  nonsense  down  the  throats  of  all  the 
loyal  and  well  affected. — The  Edinburgh  Review. 


Robert  Southey 

Madoc,  by  Robert   Southey.    4to.    pp.   560.    2I.   2s. 

Boards.     Printed  at  Edinburgh,  for  Longman  and  Co., 

London.     1805. 

It  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  this  writer  to  puzzle  our 
critical  discernment  more  than  once.  In  the  Annual  An- 
thology we  had  reason  to  complain  that  it  was  difficult  to 
distinguish  his  jocular  from  his  serious  poetry ;  and  some- 
times indeed  to  know  his  poetry  from  his  prose.  He  has 
now  contrived  to  manufacture  a  large  quarto,  which  he 
has  styled  a  poem,  but  of  what  description  it  is  no  easy 
matter  to  decide.  The  title  of  epic,  which  he  indignantly 
disclaims,  we  might  have  been  inclined  to  refuse  his  pro- 
duction, had  it  been  claimed;  and  we  suppose  that  Mr. 
Southey  would  not  suffer  it  to  be  classed  under  the  mock- 
heroic.  The  poem  of  Madoc  is  not  didactic,  nor  elegiac, 
nor  classical,  in  any  respect.  Neither  is  it  Macphersonic, 
nor  Klopstockian,  nor  Darzvinian, — we  beg  pardon,  we 
mean  Brookian.  To  conclude,  according  to  a  phrase  of 
the  last  century,  which  was  applied  to  ladies  of  ambiguous 
character,  it  is  what  it  is. — As  Mr.  Southey  has  set  the 
rules  of  Aristotle  at  defiance  in  his  preface,  we  hope  that 
he  will  feel  a  due  degree  of  gratitude  for  this  appropriate 
definition  of  his  work.  It  is  an  old  saying,  thoroughly 
descriptive  of  such  an  old  song  as  this  before  us. 

Mr.  Southey,  however,  has  not  disdained  all  antient 
precedents  in  his  poem,  for  he  introduces  it  with  this  ad- 
vertisement : 

'  Come,  listen  to  a  tale  of  times  of  old ! 
Come,  for  ye  know  me !   I  am  he  who  sung 
The  maid  of  Arc ;  and  I  am  he  who  framed 
60 


SOUTHEY'S  MADOC  6i 

Of  Thalaba  the  wild  and  wonderous  song. 

Come,  listen  to  my  lay,  and  ye  shall  hear 

How  Madoc  from  the  shores  of  Britain  spread 

The  adventurous  sail,  explored  the  ocean  ways. 

And  quelled  barbarian  power,  and  overthrew 

The  bloody  altars  of  idolatry, 

And  planted  in  its  fanes  triumphantly 

The  cross  of  Christ.     Come,  listen  to  my  lay!' 

This  modest  ostentation  was  certainly  derived  from  the 
verses  imputed  to  Virgil ; 

"  Ille  ego,  qui  quondam  gracili  modulatus  avena 
Carmen;  et  egressus  sylvis,  vicina  coegi 
Ut  quamvis  avido  parerent  arva  colono, 
Gratum  opus  agricolis :   at  nunc  horrentia  Martis,  &c." 

In  the  very  first  part  of  the  poem,  also,  we  find  Mr. 
Southey  pursuing  the  Horatian  precept,  "  prorumpere  in 
medias  res;"  for  he  commences  with  the  return  of  Madoc 
to  his  native  country.  It  is  true  that,  like  the  Messenger 
in  Macklin's  tragedy,  he  "  goes  but  to  return ;"  and  the 
critic  is  tempted  to  say,  with  Martial,  toto  carere  possum. 
— Thus  the  grand  interest  of  the  work,  which  ought  to 
consist  in  exploring  a  new  world,  is  destroyed  at  once,  by 
the  reader  at  his  outset  encountering  the  heroes  returning 
"  sound,  wind  and  limb,"  to  their  native  country.  It  may 
be  said  that  Camcens  has  thrown  a  great  part  of  Da 
Gama's  Voyage  into  the  form  of  a  narrative :  but  he  has 
also  given  much  in  description ;  enough,  at  least,  to  have 
justified  Mr.  Southey  in  commencing  rather  nearer  the 
commencement  of  his  tale. 

That  he  might  withdraw  himself  entirely  from  the  yoke 
of  Aristotle,  Mr.  Southey  has  divided  his  poem  into  two 
parts,  instead  of  giving  it  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an 
end.  One  of  these  parts  is  concisely  entitled,  '  Madoc  in 
Wales ;'  the  other,  *  Madoc  in  Aztlan.'     A  middle  might, 


62  THE    MONTHLY   REVIEW 

however,  have  been  easily  found,  by  adding,  Modoc  on 
Shipboard. — The  first  of  these  Anti  Peripatetic  parts  con- 
tains i8  divisions ;  the  second,  27  which  include  every  in- 
cident, episode,  &c.  introduced  into  the  poem.  This 
arrangement  gives  it  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  jour- 
nal versified,  and  effectually  precludes  any  imputation  of 
luxuriance  of  fancy  in  the  plot. 

Respecting  the  manners,  Mr.  Southey  appears  to  have 
been  more  successful  than  in  his  choice  of  the  story.  He 
has  adhered  to  history  where  he  could  discover  any  facts 
adapted  to  his  purpose;  and  when  history  failed  him,  he 
has  had  recourse  to  probability.  Yet  we  own  that  the 
nomenclature  of  his  heroes  has  shocked  what  Mr.  S.  would 
call  our  prejudices.  Goervyl  and  Ririd  and  Rodri  and 
Llaian  may  have  charms  for  Cambrian  ears,  but  who  can 
feel  an  interest  in  Tezozomoc,  Tlalala,  or  Ocelopan?  Or, 
should 

'  Tyneio,  Merini, 


Boda  and  Brenda  and  Aelgj^arch, 
Gwynon  and  Celynin  and  Gwynodyl,'  (p.  129.) 
"Those  rugged  names  to  our  like  mouths  grow  sleek. 
That  would  have  made  Quintilian  stare  and  gasp,*" 

how  could  we  swallow  Yuhidthiton,  Coanocotzin,  and, 
above  all,  the  yawning  jaw-dislocating  Ayayacaf — These 
torturing  words,  particularly  the  latter,  remind  us  so 
strongly  of  the  odious  cacophony  of  the  Nurse  and  Child, 
that  they  really  are  not  to  be  tolerated.  Mr.  Southey's  de- 
fence (for  he  has  partially  anticipated  this  objection)  is  that 
the  names  are  conformable  to  history  or  analogy,  which  we 
are  not  inclined  to  dispute :  but  it  is  not  requisite  to  tread 
so  closely  in  the  traces  of  barbarity.  Truth  does  not  con- 
stitute the  essence  of  poetry :  but  it  is  indispensably  neces- 
sary that  the  lines  should  be  agreeable  to  the  ear,  as  well 

*  Milton. 


SOUTHEY'S  MADOC  63 

as  to  the  sense.  Sorry,  indeed,  we  are  to  complain  that  Mr. 
Southey,  in  attempting  a  new  method  of  writing, — in  pro- 
fessing to  set  aside  the  old  models,  and  to  promote  his  own 
work  to  a  distinguished  place  in  the  library, — has  failed 
to  interest  our  feelings,  or  to  excite  our  admiration.  The 
dull  tenor  of  mediocrity,  which  characterizes  his  pages, 
is  totally  unsuitable  to  heroic  poetry,  regular  or  irregular. 
Instead  of  viewing  him  on  a  iiery  Pegasus,  and  "  snatch- 
ing a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art,"  we  behold  the  author 
mounted  on  a  strange  animal,  something  between  a  rough 
Welsh  poney  and  a  Peruvian  sheep,  whose  utmost  capriole 
only  tends  to  land  him  in  the  mud.  We  may  indeed 
safely  compliment  Mr.  Southey,  by  assuring  him  that  there 
is  nothing  in  Homer,  Virgil,  or  Milton,  in  any  degree  re- 
sembling the  beauties  of  Madoc. 

Whether  the  expedition  of  Madoc,  and  the  existence  of 
a  Welsh  tribe  in  America,  be  historically  true,  it  is  not 
our  present  business  to  examine.  It  is  obvious,  however, 
that  one  great  object  of  the  poem,  the  destruction  of  the 
altars  of  idolatry,  had  failed ;  for  it  is  not  pretended  that 
the  supposed  descendants  of  Madoc  remained  Christians. 

We  shall  now  make  some  extracts  from  this  poem, 
which  will  enable  our  readers  to  judge  whether  we  have 
spoken  too  severely  of  Mr.  Southey 's  labours. 

[Quotes  270  lines  of  Madoc  with  interpolated  comments.] 

If  the  perusal  of  these  and  the  preceding  verses  should 
tempt  any  of  our  readers  to  purchase  Mr.  Southey 's 
volume,  we  can  warrant  equal  entertainment  in  all  its 
other  parts,  and  shall  heartily  wish  the  gentleman  all 
happiness  with  his  poet. — To  us,  there  appears  a  thorough 
perversion  of  taste,  in  the  conception  and  execution  of  the 
whole;  and  we  are  disgusted  with  the  tameness  of  the 
verse,  the  vulgarity  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  barbarity  of 


64  THE   MONTHLY  REVIEW 

the  manners.  If  this  style  of  writing  be  continued,  we 
may  expect  not  only  the  actions  of  Vindomarus  or  Ario- 
vistus  to  be  celebrated,  but  we  may  perhaps  see  the  history 
of  the  Cherokees,  Choctaws,  and  Catabaws,  versified  in 
quarto.  The  name  of  Atakulla-kulla  would  not  be  inhar- 
monious, compared  with  some  of  Mr.  Southey's  heroes. 
Indeed,  a  very  interesting  poem  might  be  founded  on  the 
story  of  Pocahuntas,  as  it  is  detailed  by  Smith,  in  his  His- 
tory of  the  Settlement  of  Virginia;  and  if  Mr.  Southey 
should  meditate  another  irruption  into  the  territories  of 
the  Muse,  we  would  recommend  this  subject  to  his  atten- 
tion. 

It  must  be  remarked  that  this  is  a  very  handsome  and 
elegantly  printed  book,  with  engraved  title-pages,  vig- 
nettes, &c.  and  had  the  poet  equalled  the  printer,  his 
work  might  have  stood  on  the  same  shelf  with  those  of 
our  most  admired  writers. — The  Monthly  Review, 


Charles  Lamb 

Blank  Verse,  by  Charles  Lloyd,  and  Charles  Lamb. 

l2mo.     2s.  6d.     Boards.     Arch.     1798. 

Dr.  Johnson,  speaking  of  blank  verse,  seemed  to  have 
adopted  the  opinion  of  some  great  man, — we  forget 
whom, — that  it  is  only  "  poetry  to  the  eye."  On  perusing 
the  works  of  several  modern  bards  of  our  own  country, 
we  have  sometimes  rather  inclined  to  the  same  idea,  but 
the  recollection  of  Milton  and  Thomson  presently 
banished  it. 

We  have  more  than  once  delivered  our  sentiments  re- 
specting the  poetry  of  Mr.  Charles  Lloyd.  To  what  we 
have  formerly  remarked,  in  general  on  this  head,  we  have 
little  to  add  on  the  present  occasion ;  except  that  we  begin 
to  grow  weary  of  his  continued  mclancfjolg  strains. 
Why  is  this  ingenious  writer  so  uncomfortably  constant  to 
the  mournful  Muse?  If  he  has  any  taste  for  variety,  he 
has  little  to  fear  from  jealousy  in  the  sacred  sisterhood. 
— Then  why  not  sometimes  make  his  bow  to  Thalia? 

Mr.  Lamb,  the  joint  author  of  this  little  volume,  seems 
to  be  very  properly  associated  with  his  plaintive  com- 
panion.— The  Monthly  Review. 


65 


Album  Verses,  with  a  few  others.    By  Charles  Lamb. 

i2mo.    pp.  150.     London,  1830.     Moxon. 

If  any  thing  could  prevent  our  laughing  at  the  present 
collection  of  absurdities,  it  would  be  a  lamentable  convic- 
tion of  the  blinding  and  engrossing  nature  of  vanity.  We 
could  forgive  the  folly  of  the  original  composition,  but 
cannot  but  marvel  at  the  egotism  which  has  preserved,  and 
the  conceit  which  has  published.  What  exaggerated 
notion  must  that  man  entertain  of  his  talents,  who  believes 
their  slightest  efforts  worthy  of  remembrance;  one  who 
keeps  a  copy  of  the  verses  he  writes  in  young  ladies' 
albums,  the  proverbial  receptacles  for  trash !  Here  and 
there  a  sweet  and  natural  thought  intervenes ;  but  the  chief 
part  is  best  characterized  by  that  expressive  though  un- 
gracious word  "  rubbish."  And  what  could  induce  our 
author  to  trench  on  the  masculine  and  vigorous  Crabbe? 
did  he  think  his  powerful  and  dark  outlines  might  with 
advantage  be  turned  to  "  prettiness  and  favour  ?"  But 
let  our  readers  judge  from  the  following  specimens.  The 
first  is  from  the  album  of  Mrs.  Jane  Towers. 

"Conjecturing,  I  wander  in  the  dark, 
I  know  thee  only  sister  to  Charles  Clarke !" 

Directions  for  a  picture — 

"You  wished  a  picture,  cheap,  but  good; 
The  colouring?   decent;  clear,  not  muddy; 
To  suit  a  poet's  quiet  study." 

The  subject  is  a  child — 

"  Thrusting  his  fingers  in  his  ears, 
Like  Obstinate,  that  perverse  funny  one, 
In  honest  parable  of  Bunyan." 
66 


LAMB'S   ALBUM   VERSES  67 

We  were  not  aware  of  "  Obstinate's  "  fun  before. 
An  epitaph : — 

"On  her  bones  the  turf  lie  lightly, 
And  her  rise  again  be  brightly! 
No  dark  stain  be  found  upon  her — 
No,  there  will  not,  on  mine  honour — 
Answer  that  at  least  I  can." 

Or  what  is  the  merit  of  the  ensuing  epicedium  ? 

[Quotes  48  lines  beginning: — 

There's  rich  Kitty  Wheatley, 
With  footing  it  featly,  etc.] 

Mr.  Lamb,  in  his  dedication,  says  his  motive  for  pub- 
lishing is  to  benefit  his  pubhsher,  by  affording  him  an 
opportunity  of  shewing  how  he  means  to  bring  out  works. 
We  could  have  dispensed  with  the  specimen ;  though  it  is 
but  justice  to  remark  on  the  neat  manner  in  which  the 
work  is  produced  :  the  title-page  is  especially  pretty. — The 
Literary  Gazette. 


Walter  Savage  Landor 

Gebir;  a  Poem,  in  Seven  Books.     i2mo.    74  pp.    Riv- 

ingtons.     1798. 

How  this  Poem,  which  appears  to  issue  from  the  same 
publishers  as  our  own  work,  so  long  escaped  our  notice, 
we  cannot  say.  Still  less  are  we  able  to  guess  at  the 
author,  or  his  meaning.  In  a  copy  lately  lent  to  us,  as  a 
matter  we  had  overlooked,  we  observe  the  following  very 
apposite  quotation,  inscribed  on  the  title-page,  by  some 
unknown  hand : 

Some  love  the  verse 

Which  read,  and  read,  you  raise  your  eyes  in  doubt, 
And  gravely  wonder  what  it  is  about. 

Among  persons  of  that  turn  of  mind,  the  author  must 
look  for  the  ten  admirers  who,  as  he  says,  would  satisfy 
his  ambition ;  but  whether  they  could  have  the  qualities  of 
taste  and  genius,  which  he  requires,  is  with  us  a  matter  of 
doubt.  Turgid  obscurity  is  the  general  character  of  the 
composition,  with  now  and  then  a  gleam  of  genuine  poetry, 
irradiating  the  dark  profound.  The  effect  of  the  perusal 
is  to  give  a  kind  of  whirl  to  the  brain,  more  like  distraction 
than  pleasure;  and  something  analogous  to  the  sensation 
produced,  when  the  end  of  the  finger  is  rubbed  against  the 
parchment  of  the  tambourine. — The  British  Critic. 


68 


Gehir;  a  Poem,  in  Seven  Books.    8vo.    pp.  74.    2s.  6d. 

Rivingtons.     1798. 

An  unpractised  author  has  attempted,  in  this  poem,  the 
difficult  task  of  relating  a  romantic  story  in  blank-verse. 
His  performance  betrays  all  the  incorrectness  and  abrupt- 
ness of  inexperience,  but  it  manifests  occasionally  some 
talent  for  description.  He  has  fallen  into  the  common 
error  of  those  who  aspire  to  the  composition  of  blank- 
verse,  by  borrowing  too  many  phrases  and  epithets  from 
our  incomparable  Milton.  We  give  the  following  extract, 
as  affording  a  fair  specimen : 

[Quotes  about  60  lines  from  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  and  sixth 
books  of  Gebir.] 

We  must  observe  that  the  story  is  told  very  obscurely, 
and  should  have  been  assisted  by  an  Argument  in  prose. 
Young  writers  are  often  astonished  to  find  that  passages, 
which  seem  very  clear  to  their  own  heated  imaginations, 
appear  very  dark  to  their  readers. — The  author  of  the 
poem  before  us  may  produce  something  worthy  of  more 
approbation,  if  he  will  labour  hard,  and  delay  for  a  few 
years  the  publication  of  his  next  performance. — The 
Monthly  Review, 


6g 


Sir  Walter  Scott 

Marmion;  a  Tale  of  Flodden  Field.  By  Walter  Scott, 
Esq.  4to.  pp.  500.  Edinburgh  and  London,  1808. 
There  is  a  kind  of  right  of  primogeniture  among  books, 
as  well  as  among  men;  and  it  is  difficult  for  an  author, 
who  has  obtained  great  fame  by  a  first  publication,  not  to 
appear  to  fall  off  in  a  second — especially  if  his  original 
success  could  be  imputed,  in  any  degree,  to  the  novelty  of 
his  plan  of  composition.  The  public  is  always  indulgent 
to  untried  talents;  and  is  even  apt  to  exaggerate  a  little 
the  value  of  what  it  receives  without  any  previous  expecta- 
tion. But,  for  this  advance  of  kindness,  it  usually  exacts 
a  most  usurious  return  in  the  end.  When  the  poor  author 
comes  back,  he  is  no  longer  received  as  a  benefactor,  but  a 
debtor.  In  return  for  the  credit  it  formerly  gave  him, 
the  world  now  conceives  that  it  has  a  just  claim  on  him 
for  excellence,  and  becomes  impertinently  scrupulous  as 
to  the  quality  of  the  coin  in  which  it  is  to  be  paid. 

The  just  amount  of  this  claim  plainly  cannot  be  for 
more  than  the  rate  of  excellence  which  he  had  reached 
in  his  former  production;  but,  in  estimating  this  rate, 
various  errors  are  perpetually  committed,  which  increase 
the  difficulties  of  the  task  which  is  thus  imposed  on  him. 
In  the  first  place,  the  comparative  amount  of  his  past  and 
present  merits  can  only  be  ascertained  by  the  uncertain 
standard  of  his  reader's  feelings ;  and  these  must  always 
be  less  lively  with  regard  to  a  second  performance ;  which, 
with  every  other  excellence  of  the  first,  must  necessarily 
want  the  powerful  recommendations  of  novelty  and  sur- 
prise, and  consequently  fall  very  far  short  of  the  effect 
produced   by  their   strong  cooperation.     In   the  second 

70 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  n 

place,  it  may  be  observed,  in  general,  that  wherever  our 
impression  of  any  work  is  favourable  on  the  whole,  its  ev- 
cellence  is  constantly  exaggerated,  in  those  vague  and 
habitual  recollections  which  form  the  basis  of  subsequent 
comparisons.  We  readily  drop  from  our  memory  the 
dull  and  bad  passages,  and  carry  along  with  us  the  remem- 
brance of  those  only  which  had  afforded  us  delight.  Thus, 
when  we  take  the  merit  of  any  favourite  poem  as  a  stand- 
ard of  comparison  for  some  later  production  of  the  same 
author,  we  never  take  its  true  average  merit,  which  is 
the  only  fair  standard,  but  the  merit  of  its  most  striking 
and  memorable  passages,  which  naturally  stand  forward 
in  our  recollection,  and  pass  upon  our  hasty  retrospect  as 
just  and  characteristic  specimens  of  the  whole  work ;  and 
this  high  and  exaggerated  standard  we  rigorously  apply  to 
the  first,  and  perhaps  the  least  interesting  parts  of  the  sec- 
ond performance.  Finally,  it  deserves  to  be  noticed,  that 
where  a  first  work,  containing  considerable  blemishes,  has 
been  favourably  received,  the  public  always  expects  this 
indulgence  to  be  repaid  by  an  improvement  that  ought  not 
to  be  always  expected.  If  a  second  performance  appear, 
therefore,  with  the  same  faults,  they  will  no  longer  meet 
with  the  same  toleration.  Murmurs  will  be  heard  about 
indolence,  presumption,  and  abuse  of  good  nature;  while 
the  critics,  and  those  who  had  gently  hinted  at  the  neces- 
sity of  correction,  will  be  more  out  of  humour  than  the  rest 
at  this  apparent  neglect  of  their  admonitions. 

For  these,  and  for  other  reasons,  we  are  inclined  to  sus- 
pect, that  the  success  of  the  work  now  before  us  will  be 
less  brilliant  than  that  of  the  author's  former  publication, 
though  we  are  ourselves  of  opinion,  that  its  intrinsic  merits 
are  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  equal ;  and  that,  if  it  had  had 
the  fortune  to  be  the  elder  born,  it  would  have  inherited  as 
fair  a  portion  of  renown  as  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  its  pre- 


72  THE  EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

decessor.  It  is  a  good  deal  longer,  indeed,  and  somewhat 
more  ambitious ;  and  it  is  rather  clearer  that  it  has  greater 
faults,  than  that  it  has  greater  beauties ;  though,  for  our 
own  parts,  we  are  inclined  to  believe  in  both  propositions. 
It  has  more  tedious  and  flat  passages,  and  more  ostentation 
of  historical  and  antiquarian  lore;  but  it  has  also  greater 
richness  and  variety,  both  of  character  and  incident ;  and 
if  it  has  less  sweetness  and  pathos  in  the  softer  passages, 
it  has  certainly  more  vehemence  and  force  of  colouring 
in  the  loftier  and  busier  representations  of  action  and 
emotion.  The  place  of  the  prologuizing  minstrel  is  but 
ill  supplied,  indeed,  by  the  epistolary  dissertations  which 
are  prefixed  to  each  book  of  the  present  poem ;  and  the 
ballad  pieces  and  mere  episodes  which  it  contains,  have 
less  finish  and  poetical  beauty;  but  there  is  more  airiness 
and  spirit  in  the  lighter  delineations ;  and  the  story,  if  not 
more  skilfully  conducted,  it  at  least  better  complicated, 
and  extended  through  a  wider  field  of  adventure.  The 
characteristics  of  both,  however,  are  evidently  the  same; 
— a  broken  narrative —  a  redundancy  of  minute  descrip- 
tion— bursts  of  unequal  and  energetic  poetry — and  a  gen- 
eral tone  of  spirit  and  animation,  unchecked  by  timidity  or 
afjfectation,  and  unchastised  by  any  great  delicacy  of  taste, 
or  elegance  of  fancy. 

But  though  we  think  this  last  romance  of  Mr  Scott's 
about  as  good  as  the  former,  and  allow  that  it  affords  great 
indications  of  poetical  talent,  we  must  remind  our  readers, 
that  we  never  entertained  much  partiality  for  this  sort  of 
composition,  and  ventured  on  a  former  occasion  to  express 
our  regret,  that  an  author  endowed  with  such  talents 
should  consume  them  in  imitations  of  obsolete  extrava- 
gance, and  in  the  representation  of  manners  and  senti- 
ments in  which  none  of  his  readers  can  be  supposed  to  take 
much  interest,  except  the  few  who  can  judge  of  their 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  73 

exactness.  To  write  a  modern  romance  of  chivalry,  seems 
to  be  much  such  a  fantasy  as  to  build  a  modern  abbey,  or 
an  English  pagoda.  For  once,  however,  it  may  be  ex- 
cused as  a  pretty  caprice  of  genius ;  but  a  second  produc- 
tion of  the  same  sort  is  entitled  to  less  indulgence,  and 
imposes  a  sort  of  duty  to  drive  the  author  from  so  idle  a 
task,  by  a  fair  exposition  of  the  faults  which  are  in  a  man- 
ner inseparable  from  its  execution.  To  enable  our  readers 
to  judge  fairly  of  the  present  performance,  we  shall  first 
present  them  with  a  brief  abstract  of  the  story ;  and  then 
endeavour  to  point  out  what  seems  to  be  exceptionable, 
and  what  is  praiseworthy,  in  the  execution. 

[Here  follows  a  detailed  outline  of  the  plot  of  Marmion.] 

Now,  upon  this  narrative,  we  are  led  to  observe,  in  the 
first  place,  that  it  forms  a  very  scanty  and  narrow  founda- 
tion for  a  poem  of  such  length  as  is  now  before  us.  There 
is  scarcely  matter  enough  in  the  main  story  for  a  ballad  of 
ordinary  dimensions ;  and  the  present  work  is  not  so 
properly  diversified  with  episodes  and  descriptions,  as 
made  up  and  composed  of  them.  No  long  poem,  however, 
can  maintain  its  interest  without  a  connected  narrative. 
It  should  be  a  grand  historical  picture,  in  which  all  the 
personages  are  concerned  in  one  great  transaction,  and  not 
a  mere  gallery  of  detailed  groupes  and  portraits.  When 
we  accompany  the  poet  in  his  career  of  adventure,  it  is  not 
enough  that  he  points  out  to  us,  as  we  go  along,  the 
beauties  of  the  landscape,  and  the  costumes  of  the  inhab- 
itants. The  people  must  do  something  after  they  are  de- 
scribed, and  they  must  do  it  in  concert,  or  in  opposition  to 
each  other ;  while  the  landscape,  with  its  castles  and  woods 
and  defiles,  must  serve  merely  as  the  scene  of  their  ex- 
ploits, and  the  field  of  their  conspiracies  and  contentions. 
There  is  too  little  connected  incident  in  Marmion,  and  a 
great  deal  too  much  gratuitious  description. 


74  THE  EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

In  the  second  place,  we  object  to  the  whole  plan  and 
conception  of  the  fable,  as  turning  mainly  upon  incidents 
unsuitable  for  poetical  narrative,  and  brought  out  in  the 
denouement  in  a  very  obscure,  laborious,  and  imperfect 
manner.  The  events  of  an  epic  narrative  should  all  be  of  a 
broad,  clear,  and  palpable  description ;  and  the  difficulties 
and  embarrassments  of  the  characters,  of  a  nature  to  be 
easily  comprehended  and  entered  into  by  readers  of  all 
descriptions.  Now,  the  leading  incidents  in  this  poem  are 
of  a  very  narrow  and  peculiar  character,  and  are  woven 
together  into  a  petty  intricacy  and  entanglement  which 
puzzles  the  reader  instead  of  interesting  him,  and  fatigues 
instead  of  exciting  his  curiosity.  The  unaccountable  con- 
duct of  Constance,  in  first  ruining  De  Wilton  in  order  to 
forward  Marmion's  suit  with  Clara,  and  then  trying  to 
poison  Clara,  because  Marmion's  suit  seemed  likely  to  suc- 
ceed with  her — but,  above  all,  the  paltry  device  of  the 
forged  letters,  and  the  sealed  packet  given  up  by  Con- 
stance at  her  condemnation,  and  handed  over  by  the  abbess 
to  De  Wilton  and  Lord  Angus,  are  incidents  not  only  un- 
worthy of  the  dignity  of  poetry,  but  really  incapable  of 
being  made  subservient  to  its  legitimate  purposes.  They 
are  particularly  imsuitable,  too,  to  the  age  and  character  of 
the  personages  to  whom  they  relate ;  and,  instead  of  form- 
ing the  instruments  of  knightly  vengeance  and  redress, 
remind  us  of  the  machinery  of  a  bad  German  novel,  or  of 
the  disclosures  which  might  be  expected  on  the  trial  of  a 
pettifogging  attorney.  The  obscurity  and  intricacy  which 
they  communicate  to  the  whole  story,  must  be  very  pain- 
fully felt  by  every  reader  who  tries  to  comprehend  it ;  and 
is  prodigiously  increased  by  the  very  clumsy  and  inarti- 
ficial manner  in  which  the  denouement  is  ultimately 
brought  about  by  the  author.  Three  several  attempts  are 
made  by  three  several  persons  to  beat  into  the  head  of  the 


SCOTT'S  MARMION  75 

reader  the  evidence  of  De  Wilton's  innocence,  and  of  Mar- 
mion's  guilt ;  first,  by  Constance  in  her  dying  speech  and 
confession ;  secondly,  by  the  abbess  in  her  conference  with 
De  Wilton ;  and,  lastly,  by  this  injured  innocent  himself, 
on  disclosing  himself  to  Clara  in  the  castle  of  Lord  Angus. 
After  all,  the  precise  nature  of  the  plot  and  the  detection  is 
very  imperfectly  explained,  and  we  will  venture  to  say,  is 
not  fully  understood  by  one  half  those  who  have  fairly 
read  through  every  word  of  the  quarto  now  before  us. 
We  would  object,  on  the  same  grounds,  to  the  whole 
scenery  of  Constance's  condemnation.  The  subterranean 
chamber,  with  its  low  arches,  massive  walls,  and  silent 
monks  with  smoky  torches, — its  old  chandelier  in  an  iron 
chain, — the  stern  abbots  and  haughty  prioresses,  with 
their  flowing  black  dresses,  and  book  of  statutes  laid  on  an 
iron  table,  are  all  images  borrowed  from  the  novels  of 
Mrs  Ratclifife  {sic^  and  her  imitators.  The  public,  we 
believe,  has  now  supped  full  of  this  sort  of  horrors ;  or,  if 
any  effect  is  still  to  be  produced  by  their  exhibition,  it  may 
certainly  be  produced  at  too  cheap  a  rate,  to  be  worthy 
the  ambition  of  a  poet  of  original  imagination. 

In  the  third  place,  we  object  to  the  extreme  and  mon- 
strous improbability  of  almost  all  the  incidents  which  go 
to  the  composition  of  this  fable.  We  know  very  well  that 
poetry  does  not  describe  what  is  ordinary ;  but  the  mar- 
vellous, in  which  it  is  privileged  to  indulge,  is  the  mar- 
vellous of  permormance,  and  not  of  accident.  One  ex- 
traordinary rencontre  or  opportune  coincidence  may  be 
permitted,  perhaps,  to  bring  the  parties  together,  and  wind 
up  matters  for  the  catastrophe ;  but  a  writer  who  gets 
through  the  whole  business  of  his  poem,  by  a  series  of 
lucky  hits  and  incalculable  chances,  certainly  manages 
matters  in  a  very  economical  way  for  his  judgment  and 
invention,  and  will  probably  be  found  to  have  consulted 


76  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

his  own  ease,  rather  than  the  delight  of  his  readers.  Now, 
the  whole  story  of  Marmion  seems  to  us  to  turn  upon  a 
tissue  of  such  incredible  accidents.  In  the  first  place,  it 
was  totally  beyond  all  calculation,  that  Marmion  and  De 
Wilton  should  meet,  by  pure  chance,  at  Norham,  on  the 
only  night  which  either  of  them  could  spend  in  that 
fortress.  In  the  next  place,  it  is  almost  totally  incredible 
that  the  former  should  not  recognize  his  antient  rival  and 
antagonist,  merely  because  he  had  assumed  a  palmer's 
habit,  and  lost  a  little  flesh  and  colour  in  his  travels.  He 
appears  unhooded,  and  walks  and  speaks  before  him ;  and, 
as  near  as  we  can  guess,  it  could  not  be  more  than  a  year 
since  they  had  entered  the  lists  against  each  other.  Con- 
stance, at  her  death,  says  she  had  lived  but  three  years 
with  Marmion ;  and,  it  was  not  till  he  tired  of  her,  that  he 
aspired  to  Clara,  or  laid  plots  against  De  Wilton.  It  is 
equally  inconceivable  that  De  Wilton  should  have  taken 
upon  himself  the  friendly  office  of  a  guide  to  his  arch 
enemy,  and  discharged  it  quietly  and  faithfully,  without 
seeking,  or  apparently  thinking  of  any  opportunity  of  dis- 
closure or  revenge.  So  far  from  meditating  anything  of 
the  sort,  he  makes  two  several  efforts  to  leave  him,  when 
it  appears  that  his  services  are  no  longer  indispensable. 
If  his  accidental  meeting,  and  continued  association  with 
Marmion,  be  altogether  unnatural,  it  must  appear  still 
more  extraordinary,  that  he  should  afterwards  meet  with 
the  Lady  Clare,  his  adored  mistress,  and  the  Abbess  of 
Whitby,  who  had  in  her  pocket  the  written  proofs  of  his 
innocence,  in  consequence  of  an  occurrence  equally  acci- 
dental. These  two  ladies,  the  only  two  persons  in  the  uni- 
verse whom  it  was  of  any  consequence  to  him  to  meet,  are 
captured  in  their  voyage  from  Holy  Isle,  and  brought  to 
Edinburgh,  by  the  luckiest  accident  in  the  world,  the  very 
day  that  De  Wilton  and  Marmion  make  their  entry  itito  it. 


SCOTT'S   M  ARM  ION  11 

Nay,  the  king,  without  knowing  that  they  are  at  all  of  his 
acquaintance,  happens  to  appoint  them  lodgings  in  the 
same  stair-case,  and  to  make  them  travel  under  his  escort ! 
We  pass  the  night  combat  at  Gifford,  in  which  Marmion 
knows  his  opponent  by  moonlight,  though  he  never  could 
guess  at  him  in  sunshine ;  and  all  the  inconsistencies  of  his 
dilatory  wooing  of  Lady  Clare.  Those,  and  all  the  prodi- 
gies and  miracles  of  the  story,  we  can  excuse,  as  within 
the  privilege  of  poetry;  but,  the  lucky  chances  we  have 
already  specified,  are  rather  too  much  for  our  patience. 
A  poet,  we  think,  should  never  let  his  heroes  contract  such 
great  debts  to  fortune ;  especially  when  a  little  exertion  of 
his  own  might  make  them  independent  of  her  bounty. 
De  Wilton  might  have  been  made  to  seek  and  watch  his 
adversary,  from  some  moody  feeling  of  patient  revenge; 
and  it  certainly  would  not  have  been  difficult  to  discover 
motives  which  might  have  induced  both  Clara  and  the 
Abbess  to  follow  and  relieve  him,  without  dragging  them 
into  his  presence  by  the  clumsy  hands  of  a  cruizer  from 
Dunbar, 

In  the  fourth  place,  we  think  we  have  reason  to  com- 
plain of  Mr  Scott  for  having  made  his  figuring  characters 
so  entirely  worthless,  as  to  excite  but  little  of  our  sym- 
pathy, and  at  the  same  time  keeping  his  virtuous  person- 
ages so  completely  in  the  back  ground,  that  we  are  scarcely 
at  all  acquainted  with  them  when  the  work  is  brought  to 
a  conclusion.  Marmion  is  not  only  a  villain,  but  a  mean 
and  sordid  villain ;  and  represented  as  such,  without  any 
visible  motive,  and  at  the  evident  expense  of  characteristic 
truth  and  consistency.  His  elopement  with  Constance,  and 
his  subsequent  desertion  of  her,  are  knightly  vices  enough, 
we  suppose;  but  then  he  would  surely  have  been  more 
interesting  and  natural,  if  he  had  deserted  her  for  a 
brighter  beauty,  and  not  merely  for  a  richer  bride.     This 


78  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

was  very  well  for  Mr  Thomas  Inkle,  the  young  mer- 
chant of  London ;  but  for  the  valiant,  haughty,  and  liberal 
Lord  Marmion  of  Fontenaye  and  Lutterward,  we  do  think 
it  was  quite  unsuitable.  Thus,  too,  it  was  very  chivalrous 
and  orderly  perhaps,  for  him  to  hate  De  Wilton,  and  to 
seek  to  supplant  him  in  his  lady's  love;  but,  to  slip  a 
bundle  of  forged  letters  into  his  bureau,  was  cowardly  as 
well  as  malignant.  Now,  Marmion  is  not  represented  as 
a  coward,  nor  as  at  all  afraid  of  De  Wilton ;  on  the  con- 
trary, and  it  is  certainly  the  most  absurd  part  of  the  story, 
he  fights  him  fairly  and  valiantly  after  all,  and  overcomes 
him  by  mere  force  of  arms,  as  he  might  have  done  at  the 
beginning,  without  having  recourse  to  devices  so  unsuit- 
able to  his  general  character  and  habits  of  acting.  By  the 
way,  we  have  great  doubts  whether  a  convicted  traitor, 
like  De  Wilton,  whose  guilt  was  established  by  written 
evidence  under  his  own  hand,  was  ever  allowed  to  enter 
the  lists,  as  a  knight,  against  his  accuser.  At  all  events, 
we  are  positive,  that  an  accuser,  who  was  as  ready  and 
willing  to  fight  as  Marmion,  could  never  have  conde- 
scended to  forge  in  support  of  his  accusation ;  and  that  the 
author  has  greatly  diminished  our  interest  in  the  story, 
as  well  as  needlessly  violated  the  truth  of  character,  by 
loading  his  hero  with  the  guilt  of  this  most  revolting  and 
improbable  proceeding.  The  crimes  of  Constance  are 
multiplied  in  like  manner  to  such  a  degree,  as  both  to 
destroy  our  interest  in  her  fate,  and  to  violate  all  prob- 
ability. Her  elopement  was  enough  to  bring  on  her 
doom;  and  we  should  have  felt  more  for  it,  if  it  had 
appeared  a  little  more  unmerited.  She  is  utterly  debased, 
when  she  becomes  the  instrument  of  Marmion's  mur- 
derous perfidy,  and  the  assassin  of  her  unwilling  rival. 

De  Wilton,  again,  is  too  much  depressed  throughout 
the  poem.     It  is  rather  dangerous  for  a  poet  to  chuse  a 


SCOTT'S  MARMION  79 

hero  who  has  been  beaten  in  fair  battle.  The  readers  of 
romance  do  not  like  an  unsuccessful  warrior;  but  to  be 
beaten  in  a  judicial  combat,  and  to  have  his  arms  reversed 
and  tied  on  the  gallows,  is  an  adventure  which  can  only 
be  expiated  by  signal  prowess  and  exemplary  revenge, 
achieved  against  great  odds,  in  full  view  of  the  reader. 
The  unfortunate  De  Wilton,  however,  carries  the  stain 
upon  him  from  one  end  of  the  poem  to  the  other.  He 
wanders  up  and  down,  a  dishonoured  fugitive,  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  palmer,  through  the  five  first  books ;  and  though 
he  is  knighted  and  mounted  again  in  the  last,  yet  we  see 
nothing  of  his  performances ;  nor  is  the  author  merciful 
enough  to  afford  him  one  opportunity  of  redeeming  his 
credit  by  an  exploit  of  gallantry  or  skill.  For  the  poor 
Lady  Clare,  she  is  a  personage  of  still  greater  insipidity 
and  insignificance.  The  author  seems  to  have  formed  her 
upon  the  principle  of  Mr  Pope's  maxim,  that  women  have 
no  characters  at  all.  We  find  her  every  where,  where  she 
has  no  business  to  be ;  neither  saying  nor  doing  any  thing 
of  the  least  consequence,  but  whimpering  and  sobbing 
over  the  Matrimony  in  her  prayer  book,  like  a  great  miss 
from  a  boarding  school ;  and  all  this  is  the  more  inex- 
cusable, as  she  is  altogether  a  supernumerary  person  in 
the  play,  who  should  atone  for  her  intrusion  by  some  bril- 
liancy or  novelty  of  deportment.  Matters  would  have 
gone  on  just  as  well,  although  she  had  been  left  behind 
at  Whitby  till  after  the  battle  of  Flodden ;  and  she  is 
daggled  about  in  the  train,  first  of  the  Abbess  and  then  of 
Lord  Marmion,  for  no  purpose,  that  we  can  see,  but  to 
afford  the  author  an  opportunity  for  two  or  three  pages 
of  indifferent  description. 

Finally,  we  must  object,  both  on  critical  and  on  national 
grounds,  to  the  discrepancy  between  the  title  and  the  sub- 
stance of  the  poem,  and  the  neglect  of  Scotish  feelings 


So  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

and  Scotish  character  that  is  manifested  throughout. 
Marmion  is  no  more  a  tale  of  Flodden  Field,  than  of  Bos- 
worth  Field,  or  any  other  field  in  history.  The  story  is 
quite  independent  of  the  national  feuds  of  the  sister  king- 
doms; and  the  battle  of  Flodden  has  no  other  connexion 
with  it,  than  from  being  the  conflict  in  which  the  hero 
loses  his  life.  Flodden,  however,  is  mentioned ;  and  the 
preparations  for  Flodden,  and  the  consequences  of  it,  are 
repeatedly  alluded  to  in  the  course  of  the  composition. 
Yet  we  nowhere  find  any  adequate  expressions  of  those 
melancholy  and  patriotic  sentiments  which  are  still  all 
over  Scotland  the  accompaniment  of  those  allusions  and 
recollections.  No  picture  is  drawn  of  the  national  feel- 
ings before  or  after  that  fatal  encounter ;  and  the  day  that 
broke  for  ever  the  pride  and  the  splendour  of  his  country, 
is  only  commemorated  by  a  Scotish  poet  as  the  period 
when  an  English  warrior  was  beaten  to  the  ground. 
There  is  scarcely  one  trait  of  true  Scotish  nationality  or 
patriotism  introduced  into  the  whole  poem;  and  Mr 
Scott's  only  expression  of  admiration  or  love  for  the 
beautiful  country  to  which  he  belongs,  is  put,  if  we  rightly 
remember,  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  Southern  favour- 
ites. Independently  of  this,  we  think  that  too  little  pains 
is  taken  to  distinguish  the  Scotish  character  and  manners 
from  the  English,  or  to  give  expression  to  the  general 
feeling  of  rivalry  and  mutual  jealousy  which  at  that  time 
existed  between  the  two  countries. 

If  there  be  any  truth  in  what  we  have  now  said,  it  is 
evident  that  the  merit  of  this  poem  cannot  consist  in  the 
story.  And  yet  it  has  very  great  merit,  and  various  kinds 
of  merit, — both  in  the  picturesque  representation  of  visible 
objects,  in  the  delineation  of  manners  and  characters,  and 
in  the  description  of  great  and  striking  events.  After 
having  detained  the  reader  so  long  with  our  own  dull  re- 


SCOTT'S  M ARM  ION  8i 

marks,  it  will  be  refreshing  to  him  to  peruse  a  few  speci- 
mens of  Mr  Scott's  more  enlivening  strains. 

[Quotes  over  six  hundred  lines  of  Marmion  with  brief  com- 
ment] 

The  powerful  poetry  of  these  passages  can  receive  no 
illustration  from  any  praises  or  observations  of  ours.  It 
is  superior,  in  our  apprehension,  to  all  that  this  author  has 
hitherto  produced ;  and,  with  a  few  faults  of  diction,  equal 
to  any  thing  that  has  ever  been  written  upon  similar  sub- 
jects. Though  we  have  extended  our  extracts  to  a  very 
unusual  length,  in  order  to  do  justice  to  these  fine  concep- 
tions, we  have  been  obliged  to  leave  out  a  great  deal, 
which  serves  in  the  original  to  give  beauty  and  efifect  to 
what  we  have  actually  cited.  From  the  moment  the 
author  gets  in  sight  of  Flodden  Field,  indeed,  to  the  end 
of  the  poem,  there  is  no  tame  writing,  and  no  intervention 
of  ordinary  passages.  He  does  not  once  flag  or  grow 
tedious;  and  neither  stops  to  describe  dresses  and  cere- 
monies, nor  to  commemorate  the  harsh  names  of  feudal 
barons  from  the  Border.  There  is  a  flight  of  five  or  six 
hundred  lines,  in  short,  in  which  he  never  stoops  his  wing, 
nor  wavers  in  his  course;  but  carries  the  reader  forward 
with  a  more  rapid,  sustained,  and  lofty  movement,  than 
any  Epic  bard  that  we  can  at  present  remember. 

From  the  contemplation  of  such  distinguished  excel- 
lence, it  is  painful  to  be  obliged  to  turn  to  the  defects  and 
deformities  which  occur  in  the  same  composition.  But 
this,  though  a  less  pleasing,  is  a  still  more  indispensable 
part  of  our  duty ;  and  one,  from  the  resolute  discharge  of 
which,  much  more  beneficial  consequences  may  be  ex- 
pected. In  the  work  which  contains  the  fine  passages  we 
have  just  quoted,  and  many  of  nearly  equal  beauty,  there 
is  such  a  proportion  of  tedious,  hasty,  and  injudicious 
9 


82  THE   EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

composition,  as  makes  it  questionable  with  us,  whether  it 
is  entitled  to  go  down  to  posterity  as  a  work  of  classical 
merit,  or  whether  the  author  will  retain,  with  another 
generation,  that  high  reputation  which  his  genius  certainly 
might  make  coeval  with  the  language.  These  are  the 
authors,  after  all,  whose  faults  it  is  of  most  consequence 
to  point  out;  and  criticism  performs  her  best  and  boldest 
office, — not  when  she  tramples  down  the  weed,  or  tears  up 
the  bramble, — but  when  she  strips  the  strangling  ivy  from 
the  oak,  or  cuts  out  the  canker  from  the  rose.  The  faults 
of  the  fable  we  have  already  noticed  at  sufficient  length. 
Those  of  the  execution  we  shall  now  endeavour  to  enumer- 
ate with  greater  brevity. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  we  must  beg  leave  to  protest, 
in  the  name  of  a  very  numerous  class  of  readers,  against 
the  insufferable  number,  and  length  and  minuteness  of 
those  descriptions  of  antient  dresses  and  manners,  and 
buildings ;  and  ceremonies,  and  local  superstitions ;  with 
which  the  whole  poem  is  overrun, — which  render  so  many 
notes  necessary,  and  are,  after  all,  but  imperfectly  under- 
stood by  those  to  whom  chivalrous  antiquity  has  not 
hitherto  been  an  object  of  peculiar  attention.  We  object 
to  these,  and  to  all  such  details,  because  they  are,  for  the 
most  part,  without  dignity  or  interest  in  themselves ;  be- 
cause, in  a  modern  author,  they  are  evidently  unnatural; 
and  because  they  must  always  be  strange,  and,  in  a  good 
degree,  obscure  and  unintelligible  to  ordinary  readers. 

When  a  great  personage  is  to  be  introduced,  it  is  right, 
perhaps,  to  give  the  reader  some  notion  of  his  external 
appearance;  and  when  a  memorable  event  is  to  be  nar- 
rated, it  is  natural  to  help  the  imagination  by  some  pic- 
turesque representation  of  the  scenes  with  which  it  is  con- 
nected. Yet,  even  upon  such  occasions,  it  can  seldom  be 
advisable  to  present  the  reader  with  a  full  inventory  of 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  83 

the  hero's  dress,  from  his  shoebuckle  to  the  plume  in  his 
cap,  or  to  enumerate  all  the  drawbridges,  portcullisses, 
and  diamond  cut  stones  in  the  castle.  Mr  Scott,  how- 
ever, not  only  draws  out  almost  all  his  pictures  in  these 
full  dimensions,  but  frequently  introduces  those  pieces  of 
Flemish  or  Chinese  painting  to  represent  persons  who  are 
of  no  consequence,  or  places  and  events  which  are  of  no 
importance  to  the  story.  It  would  be  endless  to  go 
through  the  poem  for  examples  of  this  excess  of  minute 
description ;  we  shall  merely  glance  at  the  First  Canto  as 
a  specimen.  We  pass  the  long  description  of  Lord  Mar- 
mion  himself,  with  his  mail  of  Milan  steel ;  the  blue 
ribbons  on  his  horse's  mane ;  and  his  blue  velvet  housings. 
We  pass  also  the  two  gallant  squires  who  ride  behind  him. 
But  our  patience  is  really  exhausted,  when  we  are  forced 
to  attend  to  the  black  stockings  and  blue  jerkins  of  the 
inferior  persons  in  the  train,  and  to  the  whole  process  of 
turning  out  the  guard  with  advanced  arms  on  entering  the 
castle. 

'  Four  men-at-arms  came  at  their  backs, 
With  halberd,  bill,  and  battle-axe : 
They  bore  Lord  Marmion's  lance  so  strong, 
And  led  his  sumpter  mules  along, 
And  ambling  palfrey,  -when  at  need 
Him  listed  ease  his  battle-steed. 
The  last,  and  trustiest  of  the  four. 
On  high  his  forky  pennon  bore; 
Like  swallow's  tail,  in  shape  and  hue, 
Flutter'd  the  streamer  glossy  blue, 
Where,  blazoned  sable,  as  before. 
The  towering  falcon  seemed  to  soar. 
Last,  twenty  yeomen,  two  and  two, 
In  hosen  black,  and  jerkins  blue, 
With  falcons  broider'd  on  each  breast. 
Attended  on  their  lord's  behest. 


84  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

'Tis  meet  that  I  should  tell  you  now, 
How  fairly  armed,  and  ordered  how, 

The  soldiers  of  the  guard, 
With  musquet,  pike,  and  morion. 
To  welcome  noble  Marmion, 

Stood  in  the  Castle-yard; 
Minstrels  and  trumpeters  were  there. 
The  gunner  held  his  linstock  yare, 

For  welcome-shot  prepared — 

The  guards  their  morrice  pikes  advanced, 

The  trumpets  flourished  brave. 
The  cannon  from  the  ramparts  glanced, 

And  thundering  welcome  gave. 

Two  pursuivants,  whom  tabards  deck. 
With  silver  scutcheon  round  their  neck, 

Stood  on  the  steps  of  stone. 
By  which  you  reach  the  Donjon  gate. 
And  there,  with  herald  pomp  and  state, 

They  hailed  Lord  Marmion. 
And  he,  their  courtesy  to  requite, 
Gave  them  a  chain  of  twelve  marks  weight. 

All  as  he  lighted  down.'    p.  29-32, 

Sir  Hugh  the  Heron  then  orders  supper — 

*  Now  broach  ye  a  pipe  of  Malvoisie, 
Bring  pasties  of  the  doe.' 

— And  after  the  repast  is  concluded,  they  have  some 
mulled  wine,  and  drink  good  night  very  ceremoniously. 

'Lord  Marmion  drank  a  fair  good  rest, 
The  Captain  pledged  his  noble  guest. 
The  cup  went  round  among  the  rest.'' 

In  the  morning,  again,  we  are  informed  that  they  had 
prayers,  and  that  knight  and  squire 

'broke  their  fast 


On  rich  substantial  repast.' 
'  Then  came  the  stirrup-cup  in  course,'  &c.,  &C. 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  85 

And  thus  a  whole  Canto  is  fiHed  up  with  the  account  of 
a  visit  and  a  supper,  which  lead  to  no  consequences  what- 
ever, and  are  not  attended  with  any  circumstances  which 
must  not  have  occurred  at  every  visit  and  supper  among 
persons  of  the  same  rank  at  that  period.  Now,  we  are 
really  at  a  loss  to  know,  why  the  mere  circumstance  of  a 
moderate  antiquity  should  be  supposed  so  far  to  ennoble 
those  details,  as  to  entitle  them  to  a  place  in  poetry,  which 
certainly  never  could  be  claimed  for  a  description  of  more 
modern  adventures.  Nobody,  we  believe,  would  be  bold 
enough  to  introduce  into  a  serious  poem  a  description  of 
the  hussar  boots  and  gold  epaulets  of  a  commander  in 
chief,  and  much  less  to  particularize  the  liveries  and  canes 
of  his  servants,  or  the  order  and  array  of  a  grand  dinner, 
given  even  to  the  cabinet  ministers.  Yet  these  things  are, 
in  their  own  nature,  fully  as  picturesque,  and  as  interest- 
ing, as  the  ribbons  at  the  mane  of  Lord  Marmion's  horse, 
or  his  supper  and  breakfast  at  the  castle  of  Norham.  We 
are  glad,  indeed,  to  find  these  little  details  in  old  books, 
whether  in  prose  or  verse,  because  they  are  there  authentic 
and  valuable  documents  of  the  usages  and  modes  of  life 
of  our  ancestors ;  and  we  are  thankful  when  we  light  upon 
this  sort  of  information  in  an  antient  romance,  which  com- 
monly contains  matter  much  more  tedious.  Even  there, 
however,  we  smile  at  the  simplicity  which  could  mistake 
such  naked  enumerations  for  poetical  description ;  and 
reckon  them  as  nearly  on  a  level,  in  point  of  taste,  with 
the  theological  disputations  that  are  sometimes  introduced 
in  the  same  meritorious  compositions.  In  a  modern 
romance,  however,  these  details  being  no  longer  authentic, 
are  of  no  value  in  point  of  information  ;  and  as  the  author 
has  no  claim  to  indulgence  on  the  ground  of  simplicity, 
the  smile  which  his  predecessors  excited  is  in  some  danger 
of  being  turned  into  a  yawn.     If  he  wishes  sincerely  to 


86  THE  EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

follow  their  example,  he  should  describe  the  manners  of 
his  own  time,  and  not  of  theirs.  They  painted  from 
observation,  and  not  from  study;  and  the  familiarity  and 
naivete  of  their  delineations,  transcribed  with  a  slovenly 
and  hasty  hand  from  what  they  saw  daily  before  them,  is 
as  remote  as  possible  from  the  elaborate  pictures  extracted 
by  a  modern  imitator  from  black-letter  books,  and 
coloured,  not  from  the  life,  but  from  learned  theories,  or 
at  best  from  mouldy  monkish  illuminations,  and  mutilated 
fraginents  of  painted  glass. 

But  the  times  of  chivalry,  it  may  be  said,  were  more 
picturesque  than  the  present  times.  They  are  better 
adapted  to  poetry ;  and  everything  that  is  associated  with 
them  has  a  certain  hold  on  the  imagination,  and  partakes 
of  the  interest  of  the  period.  We  do  not  mean  utterly  to 
deny  this;  nor  can  we  stop,  at  present,  to  assign  exact 
limits  to  our  assent :  but  this  we  will  venture  to  observe, 
in  general,  that  if  it  be  true  that  the  interest  which  we 
take  in  the  contemplation  of  the  chivalrous  era,  arises  from 
the  dangers  and  virtues  by  which  it  was  distinguished, — 
from  the  constant  hazards  in  which  its  warriors  passed 
their  days,  and  the  mild  and  generous  valour  with  which 
they  met  those  hazards, — joined  to  the  singular  contrast 
which  it  presented  between  the  ceremonious  polish  and 
gallantry  of  the  nobles,  and  the  brutish  ignorance  of  the 
body  of  the  people : — if  these  are,  as  we  conceive  they  arCj 
the  sources  of  the  charm  which  still  operates  in  behalf  of 
the  days  of  knightly  adventure,  then  it  should  follow,  that 
nothing  should  interest  us,  by  association  with  that  age, 
but  what  serves  naturally  to  bring  before  us  those  hazards 
and  that  valour,  and  gallantry,  and  aristocratical  superi- 
ority. Any  description,  or  any  imitation  of  the  exploits 
in  which  those  qualities  were  signalized,  will  do  this  most 
effectually.      Battles, — ^tournaments, — penances, — deliver- 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  87 

ance  of  damsels, — instalments  of  knights,  &c. — and,  inter- 
mixed with  these,  we  must  admit  some  description  of 
arms,  armorial  bearings,  castles,  battlements,  and  chapels : 
but  the  least  and  lowest  of  the  whole  certainly  is  the  de- 
scription of  servants'  liveries,  and  of  the  peaceful  opera- 
tions of  eating,  drinking,  and  ordinary  salutation.  These 
have  no  sensible  connexion  with  the  qualities  or  peculiar- 
ities which  have  conferred  certain  poetical  privileges  on 
the  manners  of  chivalry.  They  do  not  enter  either  neces- 
sarily or  naturally  into  our  conception  of  what  is  interest- 
ing in  those  manners ;  and,  though  protected,  by  their 
strangeness,  from  the  ridicule  which  would  infallibly 
attach  to  their  modern  equivalents,  are  substantially  as 
unpoetic,  and  as  little  entitled  to  indulgence  from  impartial 
criticism. 

We  would  extend  this  censure  to  a  larger  proportion 
of  the  work  before  us  than  we  now  choose  to  mention — 
certainly  to  all  the  stupid  monkish  legends  about  St  Hilda 
and  St  Cuthbert — to  the  ludicrous  description  of  Lord 
Gifford's  habiliments  of  divination — and  to  all  the  various 
scraps  and  fragments  of  antiquarian  history  and  baronial 
biography,  which  are  scattered  profusely  through  the 
whole  narrative.  These  we  conceive  to  be  put  in  purely 
for  the  sake  of  displaying  the  erudition  of  the  author ;  and 
poetry,  which  has  no  other  recommendation,  but  that  the 
substance  of  it  has  been  gleaned  from  rare  or  obscure 
books,  has,  in  our  estimation,  the  least  of  all  possible 
recommendations.  Mr  Scott's  great  talents,  and  the 
novelty  of  the  style  in  which  his  romances  are  written, 
have  made  even  these  defects  acceptable  to  a  considerable 
part  of  his  readers.  His  genius,  seconded  by  the  omnipo- 
tence of  fashion,  has  brought  chivalry  again  into  tem- 
porary favour;  but  he  ought  to  know,  that  this  is  a  taste 
too  evidently  unnatural  to  be  long  prevalent  in  the  mod- 


88  THE  EDINBURGH  REVIEW 

em  world.  Fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  now  talk,  indeed, 
of  donjons,  keeps,  tabards,  scutcheons,  tressures,  caps  of 
maintenance,  portcullisses,  wimples,  and  we  know  not 
what  besides;  just  as  they  did,  in  the  days  of  Dr  Darwin's 
popularity,  of  gnomes,  sylphs,  oxygen,  gossamer,  poly- 
gynia,  and  polyandria.  That  fashion,  however,  passed 
rapidly  away;  and  if  it  be  now  evident  to  all  the  world, 
that  Dr  Darwin  obstructed  the  extension  of  his  fame,  and 
hastened  the  extinction  of  his  brilliant  reputation,  by  the 
pedantry  and  ostentatious  learning  of  his  poems,  Mr  Scott 
should  take  care  that  a  different  sort  of  pedantry  does  not 
produce  the  same  effects.  The  world  will  never  be  long 
pleased  with  what  it  does  not  readily  understand ;  and  the 
poetry  which  is  destined  for  immortality,  should  treat  only 
of  feelings  and  events  which  can  be  conceived  and  entered 
into  by  readers  of  all  descriptions. 

What  we  have  now  mentioned  is  the  cardinal  fault  of 
the  work  before  us;  but  it  has  other  faults,  of  too  great 
magnitude  to  be  passed  altogether  without  notice.  There 
is  a  debasing  lowness  and  vulgarity  in  some  passages, 
which  we  think  must  be  offensive  to  every  reader  of  deli- 
cacy, and  which  are  not,  for  the  most  part,  redeemed  by 
any  vigour  or  picturesque  effect.  The  venison  pasties, 
we  think,  are  of  this  description ;  and  this  commemoration 
of  Sir  Hugh  Heron's  troopers,  who 

*  Have  drunk  the  monks  of  St  Bothan's  ale, 
And  driven  the  beeves  of  Lauderdale; 
Harried  the  wives  of  Greenlaw's  goods, 
And  given  them  light  to  set  their  hoods.'    p.  41. 

The  long  account  of  Friar  John,  though  not  without 
merit,  offends  in  the  same  sort;  nor  can  we  easily  con- 
ceive, how  any  one  could  venture,  in  a  serious  poem,  to 
speak  of 


SCOTT'S  MARMION  89 

-'  the  wind  that  blows, 


And  warms  itself  against  his  nose.' 

The  speeches  of  squire  Blount,  too,  are  a  great  deal  too 
unpolished  for  a  noble  youth  aspiring  to  knighthood.  On 
two  occasions,  to  specify  no  more,  he  addresses  his  brother 
squire  in  these  cacophonous  lines — 

'St  Anton'  Hre  thee!    wilt  thou  stand 
All  day  with  bonnet  in  thy  hand?" 

And, 

'Stint  in  thy  prate,'  quoth  Blount,  '  thou'dst  best, 
And  listen  to  our  Lord's  behest.' 

Neither  can  we  be  brought  to  admire  the  simple  dignity 
of  Sir  Hugh  the  Heron,  who  thus  encourageth  his  nephew, 

'  By  my  fay. 


Well  hast  thou  spoke — say  forth  thy  say.' 

There  are  other  passages  in  which  the  flatness  and 
tediousness  of  the  narrative  is  relieved  by  no  sort  of 
beauty,  nor  elegance  of  diction,  and  which  form  an  ex- 
traordinary contrast  with  the  more  animated  and  finished 
portions  of  the  poem.  We  shall  not  afflict  our  readers 
with  more  than  one  specimen  of  this  falling  off.  We 
select  it  from  the  Abbess's  explanation  to  De  Wilton. 

*  De  Wilton  and  Lord  Marmion  wooed 
Clara  de  Clare,  of  Gloster's  blood; 
(Idle  it  were  of  Whitby's  dame, 
To  say  of  that  same  blood  I  came;) 
And  once,  when  jealous  rage  was  high, 
Lord  Marmion  said  despiteously, 
Wilton  was  traitor  in  his  heart. 
And  had  made  league  with   Martin   Swart, 
When  he  came  here  on  Simnel's  part; 
And  only  cowardice  did  restrain 


go  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

His  rebel  aid  on  Stokefield's  plain, — 
And  down  he  threw  his  glove : — the  thing 
Was  tried,  as  wont,  before  the  king; 
Where  frankly  did  De  Wilton  own. 
That  Swart  in  Guelders  he  had  known; 
And  that  between  them  then  there  went 
Some  scroll  of  courteous  compliment. 
For  this  he  to  his  castle  sent ; 
But  when  his  messenger  returned. 
Judge  how  De  Wilton's  fury  burned! 
For  in  his  packet  there  were  laid 
Letters  that  claimed  disloyal  aid, 
And  proved  King  Henry's  cause  betrayed.' 

— p.  272-274. 

In  some  other  places,  Mr  Scott's  love  of  variety  has 
betrayed  him  into  strange  imitations.  This  is  evidently 
formed  on  the  school  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins. 

'Of  all  the  palaces  so  fair, 

Built  for  the  royal  dwelling, 
In    Scotland,    far  beyond   compare, 
Linlithgow  is  excelling.' 

The  following  is  a  sort  of  mongrel  between  the  same 
school,  and  the  later  one  of  Mr  Wordsworth. 

'  And  Bishop  Gawin,  as  he  rose. 
Said — Wilton,  grieve  not  for  thy  woes, 

Disgrace,  and  trouble; 
For  He,  who  honour  best  bestows. 
May  give  thee  double.' 

There  are  many  other  blemishes,  both  of  taste  and  of 
diction,  which  we  had  marked  for  reprehension,  but  now 
think  it  unnecessary  to  specify ;  and  which,  with  some  of 
those  we  have  mentioned,  we  are  willing  to  ascribe  to  the 
haste  in  which  much  of  the  poem  seems  evidently  to  have 
been  composed.     Mr  Scott  knows  too  well  what  is  due  to 


SCOTT'S   MARMION  91 

the  public,  to  make  any  boast  of  the  rapidity  with  which 
his  works  are  written ;  but  the  dates  and  the  extent  of  his 
successive  publications  show  sufficiently  how  short  a  time 
could  be  devoted  to  each ;  and  explain,  though  they  do  not 
apologize  for,  the  many  imperfections  with  which  they 
have  been  suffered  to  appear.  He  who  writes  for  immor- 
tality should  not  be  sparing  of  time ;  and  if  it  be  true,  that 
in  every  thing  which  has  a  principle  of  life,  the  period  of 
gestation  and  growth  bears  some  proportion  to  that  of  the 
whole  future  existence,  the  author  now  before  us  should 
tremble  when  he  looks  back  on  the  miracles  of  his  own 
facility. 

We  have  dwelt  longer  on  the  beauties  and  defects  of 
this  poem,  than  we  are  afraid  will  be  agreeable  either  to 
the  partial  or  the  indifferent ;  not  only  because  we  look 
upon  it  as  a  misapplication,  in  some  degree,  of  very  ex- 
traordinary talents,  but  because  we  cannot  help  consider- 
ing it  as  the  foundation  of  a  new  school,  which  may  here- 
after occasion  no  little  annoyance  both  to  us  and  to  the 
public.  Mr  Scott  has  hitherto  filled  the  whole  stage  him- 
self;  and  the  very  splendour  of  his  success  has  probably 
operated,  as  yet,  rather  to  deter,  than  to  encourage,  the 
herd  of  rivals  and  imitators :  but  if,  by  the  help  of  the 
good  parts  of  his  poem,  he  succeeds  in  suborning  the  ver- 
dict of  the  public  in  favour  of  the  bad  parts  also,  and 
establishes  an  indiscriminate  taste  for  chivalrous  legends 
and  romances  in  irregular  rhime,  he  may  depend  upon 
having  as  many  copyists  as  Mrs  Radcliffe  or  Schiller,  and 
upon  becoming  the  founder  of  a  new  schism  in  the  catholic 
poetical  church,  for  which,  in  spite  of  all  our  exertions, 
there  will  probably  be  no  cure,  but  in  the  extravagance  of 
the  last  and  lowest  of  its  followers.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  we  conceive  it  to  be  our  duty  to  make  one  strong 
effort  to  bring  back  the  great  apostle  of  the  heresy  to  the 


92  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

wholesome  creed  of  his  instructors,  and  to  stop  the  insur- 
rection before  it  becomes  desperate  and  senseless,  by  per- 
suading the  leader  to  return  to  his  duty  and  allegiance. 
We  admire  Mr  Scott's  genius  as  much  as  any  of  those 
who  may  be  misled  by  its  perversion ;  and,  like  the  curate 
and  the  barber  in  Don  Quixote,  lament  the  day  when  a 
gentleman  of  such  endowments  was  corrupted  by  the 
wicked  tales  of  knight-errantry  and  enchantment. 

We  have  left  ourselves  no  room  to  say  any  thing  of  the 
epistolary  effusions  which  are  preJEixed  to  each  of  the 
cantos.  They  certainly  are  not  among  the  happiest  pro- 
ductions of  Mr  Scott's  muse.  They  want  interest  in  the 
subjects,  and  finish  in  the  execution.  There  is  too  much 
of  them  about  the  personal  and  private  feelings  and  affairs 
of  the  author;  and  too  much  of  the  remainder  about  the 
most  trite  commonplaces  of  politics  and  poetry.  There 
is  a  good  deal  of  spirit,  however,  and  a  good  deal  of  nature 
intermingled.  There  is  a  fine  description  of  St  Mary's 
loch,  in  that  prefixed  to  the  second  canto;  and  a  very 
pleasing  representation  of  the  author's  early  tastes  and 
prejudices,  in  that  prefixed  to  the  third.  The  last,  which 
is  about  Christmas,  is  the  worst;  though  the  first,  con- 
taining a  threnody  on  Nelson,  Pitt,  and  Fox,  exhibits  a 
more  remarkable  failure.  We  are  unwilling  to  quarrel 
with  a  poet  on  the  score  of  politics;  but  the  manner  in 
which  he  has  chosen  to  praise  the  last  of  these  great  men, 
is  more  likely,  we  conceive,  to  give  offence  to  his  admirers, 
than  the  most  direct  censure.  The  only  deed  for  which 
he  is  praised,  is  for  having  broken  off  the  negotiation  for 
peace ;  and  for  this  act  of  firmness,  it  is  added,  Heaven 
rewarded  him  with  a  share  in  the  honoured  grave  of  Pitt ! 
It  is  then  said,  that  his  errors  should  be  forgotten,  and  that 
he  died  a  Briton — a  pretty  plain  insinuation,  that,  in  the 
author's  opinion,  he  did  not  live  one;  and  just  such  an 


SCOTT'S  MARMION  93 

encomium  as  he  himself  pronounces  over  the  grave  of  his 
villain  hero  Marmion.  There  was  no  need,  surely,  to  pay 
compliments  to  ministers  or  princesses,  either  in  the  intro- 
duction or  in  the  body  of  a  romance  of  the  i6th  century. 
Yet  we  have  a  laboured  lamentation  over  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  in  one  of  the  epistles ;  and  in  the  heart  of  the 
poem,  a  triumphant  allusion  to  the  siege  of  Copenhagen — 
the  last  exploit,  certainly,  of  British  valour,  on  which  we 
should  have  expected  a  chivalrous  poet  to  found  his 
patriotic  gratulations.  We  have  no  business,  however, 
on  this  occasion,  with  the  political  creed  of  the  author; 
and  we  notice  these  allusions  to  objects  of  temporary 
interest,  chiefly  as  instances  of  bad  taste,  and  additional 
proofs  that  the  author  does  not  always  recollect,  that  a 
poet  should  address  himself  to  more  than  one  generation. 
— The  Edinburgh  Review, 


George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron 

Hours  of  Idleness:  A  Series  of  Poems,  Original  and 
Translated.  By  George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron,  a  Minor. 
8vo.     pp.  200.     Newark.     1807. 

The  poesy  of  this  young  lord  belongs  to  the  class  which 
neither  gods  nor  men  are  said  to  permit.  Indeed,  we  do 
not  recollect  to  have  seen  a  quantity  of  verse  with  so  few 
deviations  in  either  direction  from  that  exact  standard. 
His  effusions  are  spread  over  a  dead  flat,  and  can  no  more 
get  above  or  below  the  level,  than  if  they  were  so  much 
stagnant  water.  As  an  extenuation  of  this  offence,  the 
noble  author  is  peculiarly  forward  in  pleading  minority. 
We  have  it  in  the  title-page,  and  on  the  very  back  of  the 
volume;  it  follows  his  name  like  a  favourite  part  of  his 
style.  Much  stress  is  laid  upon  it  in  the  preface,  and  the 
poems  are  connected  with  this  general  statement  of  his 
case,  by  particular  dates,  substantiating  the  age  at  which 
each  was  written.  Now,  the  law  upon  the  point  of 
minority,  we  hold  to  be  perfectly  clear.  It  is  a  plea  avail- 
able only  to  the  defendant;  no  plaintiff  can  offer  it  as  a 
supplementary  ground  of  action.  Thus,  if  any  suit  could 
be  brought  against  Lord  Byron,  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
pelling him  to  put  into  court  a  certain  quantity  of  poetry ; 
and  if  judgment  were  given  against  him ;  it  is  highly  prob- 
able that  an  exception  would  be  taken,  were  he  to  deliver 
for  poetry,  the  contents  of  this  volume.  To  this  he  might 
plead  minority;  but  as  he  now  makes  voluntary  tender  of 
the  article,  he  hath  no  right  to  sue,  on  that  ground,  for  the 
price  in  good  current  praise,  should  the  goods  be  un- 
marketable. This  is  our  view  of  the  law  on  the  point, 
and,  we  dare  to  say,  so  will  it  be  ruled.     Perhaps,  how- 

94 


BYRON'S   HOURS   OF   IDLENESS  95 

ever,  in  reality,  all  that  he  tells  us  about  his  youth,  is 
rather  with  a  view  to  increase  our  wonder,  than  to  soften 
our  censures.  He  possibly  means  to  say,  '  See  how  a 
minor  can  write!  This  poem  was  actually  composed  by 
a  young  man  of  eighteen,  and  this  by  one  of  only  sixteen  !' 
— But,  alas,  we  all  remember  the  poetry  of  Cowley  at  ten, 
and  Pope  at  twelve;  and  so  far  from  hearing,  with  any 
degree  of  surprise,  that  very  poor  verses  were  written  by 
a  youth  from  his  leaving  school  to  his  leaving  college,  in- 
clusive, we  really  believe  this  to  be  the  most  common  of  all 
occurrences ;  that  it  happens  in  the  life  of  nine  men  in  ten 
who  are  educated  in  England ;  and  that  the  tenth  man 
writes  better  verse  than  Lord  Byron. 

His  other  plea  of  privilege,  our  author  rather  brings  for- 
ward in  order  to  wa[i]  ve  it.  He  certainly,  however,  does 
allude  frequently  to  his  family  and  ancestors — sometimes 
in  poetry,  sometimes  in  notes ;  and  while  giving  up  his 
claim  on  the  score  of  rank,  he  takes  care  to  remember  us 
of  Dr  Johnson's  saying,  that  when  a  nobleman  appears  as 
an  author,  his  merit  should  be  handsomely  acknowledged. 
In  truth,  it  is  this  consideration  only,  that  induces  us  to 
give  Lord  Byron's  poems  a  place  in  our  review,  beside 
our  desire  to  counsel  him,  that  he  do  forthwith  abandon 
poetry,  and  turn  his  talents,  which  are  considerable,  and 
his  opportunities,  which  are  great,  to  better  account. 

With  this  view,  we  must  beg  leave  seriously  to  assure 
him,  that  the  mere  rhyming  of  the  final  syllable,  even  when 
accompanied  by  the  presence  of  a  certain  number  of  feet, 
— nay,  although  (which  does  not  always  happen)  those 
feet  should  scan  regularly,  and  have  been  all  counted 
accurately  upon  the  fingers, — is  not  the  whole  art  of 
poetry.  We  would  entreat  him  to  believe,  that  a  certain 
portion  of  liveliness,  somewhat  of  fancy,  is  necessary  to 
constitute  a  poem ;  and  that  a  poem  in  the  present  day,  to 


96  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

be  read,  must  contain  at  least  one  thought,  either  in  a  little 
degree  different  from  the  ideas  of  former  writers,  or 
differently  expressed.  We  put  it  to  his  candour,  whether 
there  is  any  thing  so  deserving  the  name  of  poetry  in 
verses  like  the  following,  written  in  1806,  and  whether,  if 
a  youth  of  eighteen  could  say  any  thing  so  uninteresting 
to  his  ancestors,  a  youth  of  nineteen  should  publish  it. 

*  Shades  of  heroes,  farewell !   your  descendant,  departing 
From  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  bids  you,  adieu ! 
Abroad,  or  at  home,  your  remembrance  imparting 
New  courage,  he'll  think  upon  glory,  and  you. 

Though  a  tear  dim  his  eye,  at  this  sad  separation, 
'Tis  nature,  not  fear,  that  excites  his  regret : 

Far  distant  he  goes,  with  the  same  emulation; 
The  fame  of  his  fathers  he  ne'er  can  forget. 

That  fame,  and  that  memory,  still  will  he  cherish. 
He  vows,  that  he  ne'er  will  disgrace  your  renown; 

Like  you  will  he  live,  or  like  you  will  he  perish; 

When  decay'd,  may  he  mingle  his  dust  with  your  own.'  p.  3. 

Now  we  positively  do  assert,  that  there  is  nothing  better 
than  these  stanzas  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  noble 
minor's  volume. 

Lord  Byron  should  also  have  a  care  of  attempting  what 
the  greatest  poets  have  done  before  him,  for  comparisons 
(as  he  must  have  had  occasion  to  see  at  his  writing- 
master's)  are  odious. — Gray's  Ode  on  Eton  College, 
should  really  have  kept  out  the  ten  hobbling  stanzas  '  on  a 
distant  view  of  the  village  and  school  of  Harrow.' 

"Where  fancy,  yet,  joys  to  retrace  the  resemblance. 
Of  comrades,  in  friendship  and  mischief  allied; 
How   welcome  to  me,   your  ne'er  fading  remembrance. 
Which  rests  in  the  bosom,  though  hope  is  deny'd.'    p.  4. 


BYRON'S  HOURS  OF  IDLENESS  97 

In  like  manner  the  exquisite  lines  of  Mr  Rogers,  '  On 
a  Tear/  might  have  warned  the  noble  author  off  those 
premises,  and  spared  us  a  whole  dozen  such  stanzas  as  the 
following. 

'  Mild  Charity's  glow, 

To  us  mortals  below, 
Shows  the  soul  from  barbarity  clear; 

Compassion  will  melt, 

Where  this  virtue  is  felt. 
And  its  dew  is  diffus'd  in  a  Tear. 

The  man  doom'd  to  sail. 

With  the  blast  of  the  gale. 
Through  billows  Atlantic  to  steer. 

As  he  bends  o'er  the  wave. 

Which  may  soon  be  his  grave. 
The  green  sparkles  bright  with  a  Tear.'    p.  li. 

And  so  of  instances  in  which  former  poets  had  failed. 
Thus,  we  do  not  think  Lord  Byron  was  made  for  trans- 
lating, during  his  non-age,  Adrian's  Address  to  his  Soul, 
when  Pope  succeeded  so  indifferently  in  the  attempt.  If 
our  readers,  however,  are  of  another  opinion,  they  may 
look  at  it. 

'  Ah  !    gentle,  fleeting,  wav'ring  sprite, 
Friend  and  associate  of  this  clay! 
To  what  unknown  region  borne. 
Wilt  thou  now  wing  thy  distant  flight? 
No  more,  with  wonted  humour  gay, 

But  pallid,  cheerless,  and  forlorn.'    p.  72. 

However,  be  this  as  it  may,  we  fear  his  translations  and 
imitations  are  great  favourites  with  Lord  Byron.  We 
have  them  of  all  kinds,  from  Anacreon  to  Ossian;  and, 
viewing  them  as  school  exercises,  they  may  pass.  Only, 
why  print  them  after  they  have  had  their  day  and  served 
their  turn  ?  And  why  call  the  thing  in  p.  79  a  translation, 
10 


98  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

where  tzvo  words  {OsXo  Xeyeiv)  of  the  original  are  ex- 
panded into  four  Hnes,  and  the  other  thing  in  p,  8i,  where 
fxeffovuxTtoig  tzoO'  6  pat<s,  is  rendered  by  means  of  six  hob- 
bling verses  ? — As  to  his  Ossianic  poesy,  we  are  not  very 
good  judges,  being,  in  truth,  so  moderately  skilled  in  that 
species  of  composition,  that  we  should,  in  all  probability 
be  criticizing  some  bit  of  the  genuine  Macpherson  itself, 
were  we  to  express  our  opinion  of  Lord  Byron's  rhap- 
sodies. If,  then,  the  following  beginning  of  a  *  Song  of 
bards,'  is  by  his  Lordship,  we  venture  to  object  to  it,  as 
far  as  we  can  comprehend  it.  '  What  form  rises  on  the 
roar  of  clouds,  whose  dark  ghost  gleams  on  the  red 
stream  of  tempests?  His  voice  rolls  on  the  thunder;  'tis 
Orla,  the  brown  chief  of  Otihoma.  He  was,'  &c.  Afteir 
detaining  this  '  brown  chief '  some  time,  the  bards  con- 
clude by  giving  him  their  advice  to  *  raise  his  fair  locks ;' 
then  to  '  spread  them  on  the  arch  of  the  rainbow ;'  and 
*  to  smile  through  the  tears  of  the  storm.'  Of  this  kind 
of  thing  there  are  no  less  than  nine  pages ;  and  we  can  so 
far  venture  an  opinion  in  their  favour,  that  they  look  very 
like  Macpherson ;  and  we  are  positive  they  are  pretty 
nearly  as  stupid  and  tiresome. 

It  is  a  sort  of  privilege  of  poets  to  be  egotists ;  but  they 
should  '  use  it  as  not  abusing  it ;'  and  particularly  one 
who  piques  himself  (though  indeed  at  the  ripe  age  of 
nineteen),  of  being  'an  infant  bard,' — ('The  artless 
Helicon  I  boast  is  youth;') — should  either  not  know,  or 
should  seem  not  to  know,  so  much  about  his  own  ancestry. 
Besides  a  poem  above  cited  on  the  family  seat  of  the 
Byrons,  we  have  another  of  eleven  pages,  on  the  self- 
same subject,  introduced  with  an  apology,  'he  certainly 
had  no  intention  of  inserting  it ;'  but  really,  '  the  par- 
ticular request  of  some  friends,'  &c.,  &c.  It  concludes 
with  five  stanzas  on  himself,  '  the  last  and  youngest  of 


BYRON'S   HOURS   OF   IDLENESS  99 

a  noble  line.'  There  is  a  good  deal  also  about  his 
maternal  ancestors,  in  a  poem  on  Lachin-y-gair,  a  moun- 
tain where  he  spent  part  of  his  youth,  and  might  have 
learned  that  pibroch  is  not  a  bagpipe, 'any  more  than  duet 
means  a  fiddle. 

As  the  author  has  dedicated  so  large  a  part  of  his  vol- 
ume to  immortalize  his  employments  at  school  and  college, 
we  cannot  possibly  dismiss  it  without  presenting  the 
reader  with  a  specimen  of  these  ingenious  effusions.  In 
an  ode  with  a  Greek  motto,  called  Granta,  we  have  the 
following  magnificent  stanzas. 

'There,  in  apartments  small  and  damp, 
The  candidate  for  college  prizes. 
Sits  poring  by  the  midnight  lamp, 
Goes  late  to  bed,  yet  early  rises. 

Who  reads  false  quantities  in  Sele, 

Or  puzzles  o'er  the  deep  triangle; 
Depriv'd  of  many  a  wholesome  meal, 

In  barbarous  Latin  doom'd  to  wrangle. 

Renouncing  every  pleasing  page. 

From  authors  of  historic  use; 
Preferring  to  the  lettered  sage, 

The  square  of  .the  hypothenuse. 

Still  harmless  are  these  occupations, 
That  hurt  none  but  the  hapless  student, 

Compar'd  with  other  recreations 

Which  bring  together  the  imprudent.'' 
p.  123,  124,  125. 

We  are  sorry  to  hear  so  bad  an  account  of  the  college 
psalmody  as  is  contained  in  the  following  Attic  stanzas. 

'  Our  choir  would  scarcely  be  excus'd, 
Even  as  a  band  of  new  beginners; 
All  mercy,  now,  must  be  refus'd 
To  such  a  set  of  croaking  sinners. 


loo  THE   EDINBURGH   REVIEW 

If  David,  when  his  toils  were  ended, 

Had  heard  these  blockheads  sing  before  him 

To  us,  his  psalms  had  ne'er  descended. 
In  furious  mood,  he  would  have  tore  'em.' 

p.  126,  127. 

But  whatever  judgment  may  be  passed  on  the  poems 
of  this  noble  minor,  it  seems  we  must  take  them  as  we  find 
them,  and  be  content ;  for  they  are  the  last  we  shall  ever 
have  from  him.  He  is  at  best,  he  says,  but  an  intruder 
into  the  groves  of  Parnassus ;  he  never  lived  in  a  garret, 
like  thorough-bred  poets ;  and  *  though  he  once  roved  a 
careless  mountaineer  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,'  he  has 
not  of  late  enjoyed  this  advantage.  Moreover,  he  expects 
no  profit  from  his  publication ;  and  whether  it  succeeds  or 
not  '  it  is  highly  improbable,  from  his  situation  and  pur- 
suits hereafter,'  that  he  should  again  condescend  to  be- 
come an  author.  Therefore,  let  us  take  what  we  get  and 
be  thankful.  What  right  have  we  poor  devils  to  be  nice? 
We  are  well  ofif  to  have  got  so  much  from  a  man  of  this 
Lord's  station,  who  does  not  live  in  a  garret,  but  *  has 
the  sway '  of  Newstead  Abbey.  Again  we  say,  let  us  be 
thankful ;  and,  with  honest  Sancho,  bid  God  bless  the 
giver,  nor  look  the  gift  horse  in  the  mouth. — The  Edin- 
burgh Review. 


Childe  Haroldc's  Pilgrimage.  A  Romaunt.  By  Lord 
Byron.  The  Second  Edition.  London :  Murray, 
Fleet  Street.  1812.  8vo.  pp.  300.  Price  12s. 
If  the  object  of  poetry  is  to  instruct  by  pleasing,  then 
every  poetical  effort  has  a  double  claim  upon  the  attention 
of  the  Christian  observer.  For  we  are  anxious  that  the 
world  should  be  instructed  at  all  rates,  and  that  they 
should  be  pleased  where  they  innocently  may.  We  are, 
therefore,  by  no  means  among  those  spectators  who  view 
the  occasional  ascent  of  a  poetic  luminary  upon  the 
horizon  of  literature,  as  a  meteoric  flash  which  has  no  rela- 
tion to  ourselves ;  but  we  feel  instantly  an  eager  desire  to 
find  its  altitude,  to  take  its  bearings,  to  trace  its  course, 
and  to  calculate  its  influence  upon  surrounding  bodies. 
When  especially  it  is  no  more  an  "  oaten  reed  "  that  is 
blown ;  or  a  "  simple  shepherd  "  who  blows  it ;  but  when 
the  song  involves  many  high  and  solemn  feelings,  and  a 
man  of  rank  and  notoriety  strikes  his  golden  harp,  we 
feel,  at  once,  that  the  increased  influence  of  the  song  de- 
mands the  more  rigid  scrutiny  of  the  critic. 

Lord  Byron  is  the  author,  beside  the  book  before  us,  of 
a  small  volume  of  poems,  which  gave  little  promise,  we 
think,  of  the  present  work ;  and  of  a  satyrical  poem,  which, 
as  far  as  temper  is  concerned,  did  give  some  promise  of  it. 
It  had  pleased  more  than  one  critic  to  treat  his  Lordship's 
first  work  in  no  very  courtier-like  manner ;  and  especially 
the  Lion  of  the  north  had  let  him  feel  the  lashing  of  his 
angry  tail.  Not  of  a  temperament  to  bear  calmly  even  a 
"  look  that  threatened  him  with  insult,"  his  Lordship 
seized  the  tomahawk  of  satire,  mounted  the  fiery  wings  of 
his  muse,  and,  like  Bonaparte,  spared  neither  rank,  nor 


I02  THE   CHRISTIAN   OBSERVER 

sex,  nor  age,  but  converted  the  republic  of  letters  into  one) 
universal  field  of  carnage.  The  volume  called  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  is,  in  short,  to  be  considered,- 
among  other  works,  as  one  of  those  playful  vessels  which 
are  said  to  have  accompanied  the  Spanish  armada, 
manned  by  executioners,  and  loaded  with  nothing  but 
instruments  of  torture. 

This  second  work  was  of  too  sanguinary  a  complexion 
to  beget  a  very  pleasant  impression  upon  the  public  mind ; 
and  all  men,  who  wished  well  to  peace,  politeness  and 
literature,  joined  in  the  paean  sung  by  the  immediate  vic- 
tims of  his  Lordship's  wrath,  when  he  embarked  to  soften 
his  manners,  and,  as  it  were,  oil  his  tempers,  amidst  the 
gentler  spirits  of  more  southern  climes.  Travelling,  in- 
deed, through  any  climes,  may  be  expected  to  exert  this 
mitigating  influence  upon  the  mind.  Nature  is  so  truly 
gentle,  or,  to  speak  more  justly,  the  God  of  nature  dis- 
plays so  expansive  a  benevolence  in  all  his  works;  so 
prodigally  sheds  his  blessings  "  upon  the  evil  and  the 
good ;"  builds  up  so  many  exquisite  fabrics  to  delight  the 
eyes  of  his  creatures ;  tinges  the  flowers  with  such  colours, 
and  fills  the  grove  with  such  music ;  that  anyone  who  be- 
comes familiar  with  nature,  can  scarcely  remain  angry 
with  man.  With  what  mitigating  touches  the  scenery  of 
Europe  has  visited  our  author,  remains  to  be  seen.  That 
he  did  not  disarm  it  of  its  force  by  regarding  it  with  a 
cold  or  contemptuous  eye,  he  himself  teaches  us — 

"  Dear  Nature  is  the  kindest  mother  still. 
Though  always  changing  in  her  aspect  mild; 
From  her  bare  bosom  let  me  take  my  fill, 
Her  never-weaned,  though  not  her  favoured  child. 
O  she  is  fairest  in  her  features  wild, 
Where  nothing  polished  dares  pollute  her  path; 
To  me  by  day  or  night  she  ever  smiled, 


BYRON'S   CHILDE  HAROLD  103 

Though  I  have  marked  her  when  none  other  hath, 
And  sought  her  more  and  more,  and  loved  her  most  in  wrath." 

— P-  79. 

Our  author  having  re-landed  upon  his  native  shores, 
his  first  deed  is  to  present  to  his  country  the  work  before 
us,  as  the  fruits  of  his  travels.  It  is  a  kind  of  poetical 
journal  of  journeys  and  voyages  through  Spain  and 
Portugal,  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  and 
Archipelago,  and  through  the  states  of  ancient  Greece. 
When  we  speak  of  journal,  we  mean  rather  to  designate 
the  topics  of  the  work  than  the  manner  of  its  execution; 
for  it  is  highly  poetical.  Most  contrary  to  the  spirit  of 
those  less  fanciful  records,  his  Lordship  sublimely  dis- 
cards all  facts  and  histories;  all  incidents;  A.  M.  and 
P.  M.;  and  bad  inns  and  worse  winds;  and  battles  and 
feasts.  Seizing  merely  upon  the  picturesque  features  in 
every  object  and  event  before  him,  he  paints  and  records 
them  with  such  reflections,  moral  or  immoral,  as  arise  in 
his  ardent  mind. 

The  "  Childe  Harolde  "  is  the  traveller ;  and  as  he  is  a 
mighty  surly  fellow,  neither  loves  nor  is  loved  by  any  one ; 
"through  sin's  long  labyrinth  had  run,  nor  made  atone- 
ment when  he  did  amiss ;"  as,  moreover,  he  is  licentious 
and  sceptical ;  Lord  Byron  very  naturally,  and  creditably 
to  himself,  sets  out  in  his  Preface  with  disclaiming  any 
connection  with  this  imaginary  personage.  It  is  some- 
what singular,  however,  that  most  of  the  offensive  reflec- 
tions in  the  poem  are  made,  not  by  the  "  Childe,"  but  the 
poet. 

[Here  follows  a  summary  of  the  tv^^o  cantos,  with  extensive 
quotations.] 

Having  by  these  extracts  endeavoured  to  put  our  read- 
ers in  possession  of  some  of  the  finest  parts  of  this  poem, 


I04  THE   CHRISTIAN   OBSERVER 

and  also  of  those  passages  which  determine  its  moral  com- 
plexion, we  shall  proceed  to  offer  a  few  remarks  upon  its 
character  and  pretensions  in  both  points  of  view. 

The  poem  is  in  the  stanza  of  Spenser — a  stanza  of 
which  we  think  it  difficult  to  say  whether  the  excellencies 
or  defects  are  the  greatest.  The  paramount  advantage  is 
the  variety  of  tone  and  pause  of  v/hich  it  admits.  The 
great  disadvantages  are,  the  constraint  of  such  compli- 
cated rhymes,  and  the  long  suspension  of  the  sense,  espe- 
cially in  the  latter  half  of  the  stanza.  The  noblest  con- 
ception and  most  brilliant  diction  must  be  sacrificed,  if 
four  words  in  one  place,  and  three  in  another  cannot  be 
found  rhyming  to  each  other.  And  as  to  the  suspension 
of  the  sense,  we  are  persuaded  that  no  man  reads  a  single 
stanza  without  feeling  a  sort  of  strain  upon  the  intellect 
and  lungs — a  kind  of  suffocation  of  mind  and  body,  be- 
fore he  can  either  discover  the  lingering  meaning,  or  pro- 
nounce the  nine  lines.  To  us,  we  confess  that  the  rhym- 
ing couplets  of  Mr.  Scott,  sometimes  deviating  into  alter- 
nate rhymes,  are,  on  both  accounts,  infinitely  preferable. 
One  of  the  ends  of  poetry  is  to  relax,  and  the  artificial  and 
elaborate  stanza  of  Spenser  costs  us  too  much  trouble, 
even  in  the  reading,  to  accomplish  this  end.  To  effect 
this,  the  sense  should  come  to  us,  instead  of  our  going  far 
and  wide  in  quest  of  the  sense.  In  our  conception  also, 
the  heroic  line  of  ten  syllables,  though  favourable  to  the 
most  dignified  order  of  poetry,  appears  to  limp  when 
forced  into  the  service  of  sonneteers :  and  poems  in  the 
metre  before  us,  are,  after  all,  little  better  than  a  string 
of  sonnets ;  of  which  it  is  the  constituent  principle  to  be 
father  pretty  than  grand — rather  tender  than  martial — 
rather  conceited  than  wise — to  keep  the  sense  suspended 
for  eight  lines,  and  to  discharge  it  with  a  point  in  the 
ninth.     These  observations  are  by  no  means  designed  to 


BYRON'S    CHILDE   HAROLD  105 

apply  especially  to  the  author — the  extreme  gravity  of 
whose  general  manner  and  matter,  in  a  measure  covet  the 
dignity  of  the  heroic  line.  But  it  is  this  discordancy  of 
measure  and  subject,  together  with  the  obviously  laboured 
rhymes  and  the  halting  of  the  sense,  which  in  general,  we 
think,  have  shut  out  the  Spenserian  school  from  popular 
reading,  and  have  caused  a  distinguished  critic*  to  say, 
that  the  *'  Faiery  Queen  will  not  often  be  read  through ;" 
and  that,  although  it  maintains  its  place  upon  the  shelf, 
it  is  seldom  found  on  the  table  of  the  modern  library. 

Whilst,  however,  Lord  Byron  participates  in  this  de- 
fect of  his  great  original,  he  is  to  be  congratulated,  as  a 
poet,  but  alas !  in  his  poetical  character  alone,  on  much 
happy  deviation  from  him.  In  the  first  place,  he  has  alto- 
gether washed  his  hands  of  allegory;  a  species  of  fiction 
open  to  a  thousand  objections.  In  the  next  place,  he  is 
infinitely  more  brief  than  his  prototype.  And  in  the  third 
place,  he  philosophizes  and  moralizes  (though  not  indeed 
in  a  very  sound  strain),  as  well  as  paints — provides  food 
for  the  mind  as  well  as  the  eye — kindles  the  feeling  as  well 
as  gratifies  the  sense.  Thus  far,  then,  we  are  among  the 
admirers  of  his  Lordship.  But  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that 
what  was  well  conceived  is,  from  the  temperament  of  his 
mind,  ill  executed;  that  his  philosophy  is,  strictly  speak- 
ing, "  only  philosophy  so  called ;"  that  the  moral  emotions 
he  feels,  and  is  likely  to  communicate,  are  of  a  character 
rather  to  ofifend  and  pollute  the  mind,  than  to  sooth  or  to 
improve  it.  This  defect,  however,  we  fear,  is  to  be 
charged,  not  upon  the  poet,  but  upon  the  man,  at  least 
upon  his  principles.  But,  whatever  be  the  cause,  the 
consequences  are  dreadful.  Indeed,  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  say,  that  the  temperament  of  his  mind  is  the  ruin  of  his 
poem.     We  shall  take  the  liberty,  as  we  have  intimated,  of 

*  Hume. 


io6  THE   CHRISTIAN   OBSERVER 

touching  upon  these  defects  as  moral  delinquincies,  under 
another  head ;  but  for  the  present  we  wish  to  notice  them 
merely  as  poetical  errors. 

The  legitimate  object,  then,  of  poetry,  as  we  have  said, 
is  to  instruct  by  pleasing;  and,  cseteris  paribus,  that  poem 
is  the  best  which  conveys  the  noblest  lessons  in  the  most 
attractive  form.  If,  in  reply  to  this,  it  is  urged  that  the 
heathen  poets,  and  especially  Homer,  taught  no  lesson  to 
his  readers;  we  answer,  that  he  taught  all  the  lessons 
which,  in  his  own  days,  were  deemed  of  highest  importance 
to  his  country.  The  first  object  of  philosophers  and  other 
teachers,  in  those  days,  was  to  make  good  soldiers,  and 
therefore  to  condemn  the  vices  which  interfered  with  suc- 
cessful warfare.  Now  be  it  remembered,  that  the  grand 
topic  of  the  Iliad  is  the  fatal  influence  of  the  wrath  of 
kings  on  the  success  of  armies.  Its  first  words  are 
MHNIN  astSe.  Besides  this,  the  Iliad  upholds  the 
national  mythology,  or  the  only  accredited  religion;  and 
by  a  bold  fiction,  bordering  upon  truth,  displays  in  an 
Elysium  and  Tartarus,  the  eternal  mansions  of  the  good 
and  bad,  the  strongest  incentive  to  virtue  and  penalty  to 
vice.  Indeed,  that  both  this  and  the  Odyssey  had  a  moral 
object,  and  that  this  object  was  recognized  by  the  ancients, 
may  be  inferred  from  Horace,  who  says  of  Homer,  in 
reference  to  the  first  poem : 

"Qui,  quid  sit  pulchrum,  quid  turpe,  quid  utile,  quid  non, 
Plenius  ac  melius  Chrysippo  aut  Crantore  dicit." 

And  as  to  the  second  : 

"Rursum — quid  virtus,  et  quid  sapientia  possit, 
Utile  proposuit  nobis  exemplar  Ulyssem."    Epist.  I.  2. 

Many  of  the  Odes  of  Horace  had  a  patriotic  subject — 
his  Epistles  and  Satires,  with  those  of  Juvenal  and  Per- 


BYRON'S   CHILDE   HAROLD  107 

sius,  were  the  sermons  of  the  day.  Virgil  chiefly  pro- 
posed to  himself  to  exalt  in  his  hero  the  character  of  a 
patriot,  and,  in  his  fictitious  history,  the  dignity  of  his 
country.  If  the  lessons  they  taught  were  of  small  im- 
portance or  doubtful  value,  or  if  they  often  forget  to 
"  teach "  in  their  ambition  to  "  please,"  this  is  to  be 
charged  rather  on  the  age  than  on  the  poet.  They  taught 
the  best  lessons  they  knew ;  and  were  satisfied  to  please 
only  when  they  had  nothing  better  to  do.  In  modern 
times,  it  will  not  be  questioned  that  the  greatest  poets  have 
ever  endeavoured  to  enshrine  some  moral  or  intellectual 
object  in  their  verse.  Milton  calls  Spenser  "  our  sage 
serious  Spenser,  v/hom  I  dare  be  known  to  think  a  better 
teacher  than  Scotus  or  Aquinas."  In  like  manner,  the 
Absalom  and  Achitophel,  the  Hind  and  Panther  of 
Dryden,  the  philosophic  strain  of  Pope,  the  immortal  page 
of  Milton,  and  the  half-inspired  numbers  of  the  Task,  are 
all,  in  their  various  ways,  attempts  of  poets  to  improve  or 
reform  the  world.  Every  species  of  poetry,  indeed,  has 
received  fresh  lustre,  and  even  taken  a  new  place  in  Par- 
nassian dignity,  by  a  larger  infusion  of  moral  sentiment 
into  its  numbers.  The  ancient  ballad  has  arisen  to  new 
dignity  through  the  moral  touches,  we  wish  they  had  been 
less  rare,  of  a  Scott ;  and  the  stanza  of  Spenser  has  ac- 
quired new  interest  in  the  hands  of  Lord  Byron,  from  the 
philosophical  air  which  it  wears.  Numbers  without 
morals  are  the  man  without  "  the  glory."  We  sincerely 
wish  that  the  moral  tone  of  his  Lordship's  poem  had  been 
less  liable  to  exception. 

His  Lordship,  we  believe,  is  acquainted  with  ancient 
authors.  Let  him  turn  to  Quinctilian,  and  he  will  find  a 
whole  chapter  to  prove  that  a  great  writer  must  be  a  good 
man.  Let  him  go  to  Longinus,  and  he  will  read  that  a 
man  who  would  write  sublimely,  "  must  spare  no  labour 


io8  THE   CHRISTIAN    OBSERVER 

to  educate  his  soul  to  grandeur,  and  impregnate  it  with 
great  and  generous  ideas  " — that  "  the  faculties  of  the 
soul  will  then  grow  stupid,  their  spirit  will  be  lost,  and 
good  sense  and  genius  lie  in  ruins,  when  the  care  and 
study  of  man  is  engaged  about  the  mortal,  the  worthless 
part  of  himself,  and  he  has  ceased  to  cultivate  virtue,  and 
polish  his  nobler  part,  his  soul."  Or,  if  poetical  authority 
alone  will  satisfy  a  poet,  let  him  learn  from  one  of  the 
finest  of  our  modern  poems : 

"  But  of  our  souls  the  high-born  loftier  part, 
Th'  ethereal  energies  that  touch  the  heart, 
Conceptions  ardent,  laboring  thought  intense, 
Creative  fancy's  wild  magnificence, 
And  all  the  dread  sublimities  of  song: 
These,  Virtue,  these  to  thee  alone  belong: 
Chill'd,  by  the  breath  of  vice,  their  radiance  dies, 
And  brightest  burns  when  lighted  at  the  skies : 
Like  vestal  flames  to  purest  bosoms  given, 
And  kindled  only  by  a  ray  from  heaven."* 

That  the  object  of  poetry,  however,  is  not  simply  to  in- 
struct, but  to  "  instruct  by  pleasing,"  is  too  obvious  to 
need  a  proof.  However  the  original  object  of  measure 
and  rhythm  may  have  been  to  graft  truth  on  the  memory, 
and  associate  it  with  music;  they  are  perpetuated  by  the 
universal  conviction  that  they  delight  the  ear.  Like  the 
armour  which  adorns  the  modern  hall,  they  were  con- 
trived for  use,  but  are  continued  for  ornament. 

Assuming  this,  then,  to  be  a  just  definition  of  poetry, 
we  repeat  our  assertion,  that,  in  the  work  before  us,  the 
temperament  of  mind  in  the  poet  creates  the  grand  de- 
fect of  the  poetry.  If  poetry  should  instruct,  then  he  is 
a  defective  poet  whose  lessons  rather  revolt  than  improve 
the  mind.     If  poetry  should  please,  then  he  is  a  bad  poet 

*  Grant's  Restoration  of  Learning  in  the  East. 


BYRON'S   CHJLDE   HAROLD  109 

who  offends  the  eye  by  calling  up  the  most  hideous  images 
— who  shews  the  world  through  a  discoloured  medium — 
who  warms  the  heart  by  no  generous  feelings — who  uni- 
formly turns  to  us  the  worst  side  of  men  and  things — 
who  goes  on  his  way  grumbling,  and  labours  hard  to  make 
his  readers  as  peevish  and  wretched  as  himself.  The 
tendency  of  the  strain  of  Homer  is  to  transform  us  for  the 
moment  into  heroes;  of  Cowper,  into  saints;  of  Milton, 
into  angels  :  but  Lord  Byron  would  almost  degrade  us  into 
a  Thersites  or  a  Caliban  ;  or  lodge  us,  as  fellow-grumblers, 
in  the  style  of  Diogenes,  or  any  of  his  two  or  four-footed 
snarling  or  moody  posterity.  Now  his  Lordship,  we 
trust,  is  accessible  upon  much  higher  grounds ;  but  he  will 
perceive  that  mere  regard  for  his  poetical  reputation  ought 
to  induce  him  to  change  his  manner.  If,  as  Longinus  in- 
structs us,  a  man  must  feel  sublimely  to  write  sublimely, 
a  poet  must  find  pleasure  in  the  objects  of  nature  before 
him,  if  he  hope  to  give  pleasure  to  others.  Let  him  re- 
member, that  not  merely  his  conceptions,  but  his  mind  and 
character  are  to  be  imparted  to  us  in  his  verse.  He  will, 
in  a  measure,  "  stamp  an  image  of  himself !"  The  fire 
with  which  we  are  to  glow  must  issue  from  him.  Till  this 
change  take  place  in  him,  then,  he  can  be  no  great  poet. 
It  is  Heraclitus  who  mourns  in  his  pages,  or  Zeno  who 
scolds,  or  Zoilus  who  lashes ;  but  we  look  in  vain  for  the 
poet,  for  the  living  fountain  of  our  innocent  pleasures,  for 
the  artificer  of  our  literary  delight,  for  the  hand  which, 
as  by  enchantment,  snatches  us  from  the  little  cares  of 
life,  whirls  us  into  the  boundless  regions  of  imagination, 
"  exhausting "  one  "world,"  and  imagining  others,  to 
supply  pictures  which  may  refresh  and  charm  the  mind.* 


*  We  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  saying,  that  in  this  highest 
department  of  the  poet's  art,  we  know  of  no  living  poet  who  will 
bear  a  comparison  with  Mr.  Southey. 


no  THE   CHRISTIAN   OBSERVER 

Lord  Byron  shews  us  man  and  nature,  like  the  phantas- 
magoria, in  shade;  whereas,  in  poetry  at  least,  we  desire 
to  see  them  illuminated  by  all  the  friendly  rays  which 
a  benevolent  imagination  can  impart. 

We  have  hitherto  confined  ourselves  to  an  examination 
of  the  influence  of  the  principles  and  temper  of  this  work 
upon  its  literary  pretensions ;  but  his  Lordship  will  forgive 
us  if  we  now  put  off  the  mere  critic  for  a  moment,  and 
address  him  in  that  graver  character  which  we  assume 
to  ourselves  in  the  title  of  our  work.  In  truth,  we  are 
deeply  affected  by  the  spectacle  his  poem  presents  to  us. 
As  the  minor  poems  at  the  conclusion  of  the  work  breathe 
the  same  spirit,  suggest  the  same  doubts,  and  employ  the 
same  language  with  the  "  Childe  Harold  "  we  are  com- 
pelled to  recognise  the  author  in  the  hero  whom  he  has 
painted.  In  fact,  the  disclaimer,  already  noticed  in  the 
Preface,  seems  merely  like  one  of  those  veils  worn  to 
draw  attention  to  the  face  rather  than  to  baffle  it :  and 
in  the  work  before  us  we  are  forced  to  recognise  a  charac- 
ter, which,  since  Rousseau  gave  his  Confessions  to  the 
public,  has  scarcely  ever,  we  think,  darkened  the  horizon 
of  letters.  The  reader  of  the  "  Confessions  "  is  dismayed 
to  find  a  man  frankly  avowing  the  most  disgraceful  vices ; 
abandoning  them,  not  upon  principle,  but  merely  because 
they  have  ceased  to  gratify;  prepared  to  return  to  them 
if  they  promise  to  reward  him  better;  without  natural 
affection,  neither  loving,  nor  beloved  by  any;  without 
peace,  without  hope,  "  without  God  in  the  world."  When 
we  search  into  the  mysterious  cause  of  this  autobiograph- 
ical phenomenon,  we  at  once  discover  that  Rousseau's 
immeasurable  vanity  betrayed  him  into  a  belief,  that  even 
his  vices  would  vanish  in  the  blaze  of  his  excellencies ;  and 
that  the  world  would  worship  him,  as  idolaters  do  their 
mishapen  gods,  in  spite  of  their  ugliness.     The  confes- 


BYRON'S    CHILDE  HAROLD  iiJ 

sions  of  Lord  Byron,  we  regret  to  say,  bear  something  o'i 
an  analogy  to  those  of  the  philosopher  of  Geneva.  Are 
they,  then,  to  be  traced  to  the  same  source'^  He  plainly  is 
far  from  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  by-standers:  can 
he,  then,  conceive  that  this  peep  into  the  window  of  his 
breast  must  not  revolt  every  virtuous  eye  ?  Can  he  boldly 
proclaim  his  violations  of  decency  and  of  sobriety;  his 
common  contempt  for  all  modifications  of  religion;  his 
monstrous  belief  in  the  universal  rest  or  annihilation  of 
man  in  a  future  state ;  and  forget  that  he  is  one  of  those 
who 

"  Play  such  tricks  before  high  heaven, 
As  make  the  angels  weep;" 

as  ofjfend  against  all  moral  taste;  as  attempt  to  shake  the 
very  pillars  of  domestic  happiness  and  of  public  security? 
It  is,  however,  a  matter  of  congratulation,  that  his 
Lordship,  in  common  with  the  republican  Confessor,  has 
not  revealed  his  creed  without  very  honestly  displaying 
the  influence  of  this  creed  upon  his  own  mind.  We 
should  not,  indeed,  have  credited  a  man  of  his  sentiments, 
had  he  assured  us  he  was  happy :  happiness  takes  no  root 
in  such  soils.  But  it  is  still  better  to  have  his  own  testi- 
mony to  the  unmixed  misery  of  licentiousness  and  un- 
beUef.  It  is  almost  comforting  to  be  told,  if  we  dared  to 
draw  comfort  out  of  the  well  of  another  man's  miseries, 
that 

"Though  gay  companions  o'er  the  bowl 
Dispel  awhile  the  sense  of  ill ; 
Though  pleasure  fires  the  maddening  soul, 
The  heart — the  heart  is  lonely  still." 

It  is  consolatory  also  to  contrast  the  peace  and  triumph 
of  the  dying  Christian,  with  the  awful  uncertainty,  or 
rather  the  sullen  despair,  which  breathe  in  these  verses. 


112  THE   CHRISTIAN    OBSERVER 

"  '  Aye — but  to  die  and  go  ' — alas, 

Where  all  have  gone,  and  all  must  go; 
To  be  the  nothing  that  I  was. 
Ere  bom  to  life  and  living  woe. 

"Count  o'er  the  joys  thine  hours  have  seen. 
Count  o'er  thy  days  from  anguish  free; 
And  know,  whatever  thou  hast  been, 
'Tis  something  better  not  to  be."' 

Nor  can  religion  be  more  powerfully  recommended  than 
by  the  following  avowal  of  an  apostle  of  the  opposite 
system. 

"  No,  for  myself,  so  dark  my  fate 

Through  every  turn  of  life  has  been, 
Man  and  the  world  I  so  much  hate, 
I  care  not  when  I  quit  the  scene."' 

But  whilst,  for  the  benefit  of  others,  we  thus  avail  our- 
selves of  the  antidote  supplied  by  his  Lordship  to  his  own 
poison,  we  would  wish  also  that  he  might  feel  the  efficacy 
of  it  himself.  Could  we  hope  that  so  humble  a  work  as 
this  would  reach  the  lofty  sphere  in  which  he  moves,  we 
would  solemnly  say  to  him :  "  You  are  wretched,  but  will 
nothing  make  you  happy  ?  You  hate  all  men ;  will  nothing 
warm  you  with  new  feelings?  You  are  (as  you  say) 
hated  by  all;  will  nothing  make  you  an  object  of  affec- 
tion ?  Suppose  yourself  the  victim  of  some  disease,  which 
resisted  many  ordinary  applications ;  but  that  all  who  used 
one  medicine  uniformly  pronounced  themselves  cured : — 
would  it  be  worthy  of  a  philosopher  not  merely  to  neglect 
the  remedy,  but  to  traduce  it?  Such,  however,  my  Lord, 
is  the  fatuity  of  your  own  conduct  as  to  the  religion  of 
Christ.  Thousands,  as  wretched  as  yourself,  have  found 
'a  Comforter'  in  Him;  thousands,  having  stepped  into 
these  waters,  have  been  healed  of  their  disease ;  thousands, 
touching  the  hem  of  His  garment,  have  found  '  virtue  go 


BYRON'S   CHILDE  HAROLD  113 

out  of  it.'  Beggared  then  of  every  other  resource,  try 
this.  *  Acquaint  yourself  with  God,  and  be  at  peace.'  " 
His  Lordship  may  designate  this  language  by  that  ex- 
pressive monosyllable,  cant ;  and  may  possibly,  before 
long,  hunt  us  down,  as  a  sort  of  mad  March  hare,  with 
the  blood-hounds  of  his  angry  muse.  But  we  hope  better 
things  of  him.  We  assure  him,  that,  whatever  may  be 
true  of  others,  we  do  not  "  hate  him."  As  Christians, 
even  he  who  professes  to  be  unchristian  is  dear  to  us. 
We  regard  the  waste  of  his  fine  talents,  and  the  laboured 
suppression  and  apparent  extinction  of  his  better  feelings, 
with  the  deepest  commiseration  and  sorrow.  We  long 
to  see  him  escape  from  the  black  cloud  which,  by  what 
may  fairly  be  called  his  "  black  art,"  he  has  conjured  up 
around  himself.  We  hope  to  know  him  as  a  future 
buttress  of  his  shaken  country,  and  as  a  friend  of  his  yet 
"  unknown  God."  Should  this  change,  by  the  mercy  of 
God,  take  place,  what  pangs  would  many  passages  of  his 
present  work  cost  him!  Happy  should  we  be,  could  we 
persuade  him,  in  the  bare  anticipation  of  such  a  change, 
even  now  to  contrive  for  his  future  happiness,  by  ex- 
punging sentiments  that  would  then  so  much  embitter  it. 
Should  he  never  change;  yet,  such  an  act  would  prove, 
that,  at  least,  he  meditated  no  cruel  invasion  upon  the  joys 
of  others.  Even  Rousseau  taught  his  child  religion,  as  a 
delusion  essential  to  happiness.  The  philosophic  Tully 
also,  if  a  belief  in  futurity  were  an  error,  deemed  it  one 
with  which  it  was  impossible  to  part.  Let  the  author 
then,  at  all  events,  leave  us  in  unmolested  possession  of 
our  supposed  privileges.  He  plainly  knows  no  noble  or 
"  royal  way  "  to  happiness.  We  find  in  religion  a  bark 
that  rides  the  waves  in  every  storm ;  a  sun  that  never  goes 
down;  a  living  fountain  of  waters.  Religion  is  suffered 
to  change  its  aspect  and  influence  according  to  the  eye 


114  THE  CHRISTIAN  OBSERVER 

and  faith  of  the  examiner.  Like  one  side  of  the  pillar 
of  the  wilderness,  it  may  merely  darken  and  perplex  his 
Lordship's  path :  to  millions  it  is  like  the  opposite  side 
of  that  pillar  to  the  Israelites,  the  symbol  of  Deity;  the 
pillar  of  hallowed  flame,  which  lights  and  guides,  and 
cheers  them  as  they  toil  onward  through  the  pilgrimage 
of  life.  Could  we  hear  any  voice  proclaim  of  him,  as  of 
one  reclaimed  from  as  inveterate,  though  more  honest, 
prejudices,  "  behold,  he  prayeth ;"  we  should  hope  that 
here  also  the  scales  would  drop  from  the  eyes,  and  his 
Lordship  become  an  eloquent  defender  and  promulgator 
of  the  religion  which  he  now  scorns. — The  Christian  Ob- 
server. 


Percy  Bysshe  Shelley, 

Alastor;  or,  The  Spirit  of  Solitude;  and  other  Poems. 

By    Percy    Bysche    Shelley.      Crown   8vo.     pp.    loi. 

Baldwin,  and  Co.     1816. 

We  must  candidly  own  that  these  poems  are  beyond 
our  comprehension ;  and  we  did  not  obtain  a  clue  to  their 
sublime  obscurity,  till  an  address  to  Mr.  Wordsworth  ex- 
plained in  what  school  the  author  had  formed  his  taste. 
We  perceive,  through  the  "  darkness  visible  "  in  which 
Mr.  Shelley  veils  his  subject,  some  beautiful  imagery 
and  poetical  expressions:  but  he  appears  to  be  a  poet 
"  whose  eye,  in  a  fine  phrenzy  rolling,"  seeks  only  such 
objects  as  are  "  above  this  visible  diurnal  sphere ;"  and 
therefore  we  entreat  him,  for  the  sake  of  his  reviewers  as 
well  as  of  his  other  readers,  (if  he  has  any,)  to  subjoin 
to  his  next  publication  an  ordo,  a  glossary,  and  copious 
notes,  illustrative  of  his  allusions  and  explanatory  of  his 
meaning. — The  Monthly  Review. 


115 


The  Cenci.    A  Tragedy,  in  Five  Acts.    By  Percy  Bysshe 

Shell  [e]y.    Italy.     1819.    pp.  104. 

There  has  lately  arisen  a  new-fangled  style  of  poetry, 
facetiously  yclept  the  Cockney  School,  that  it  would  really 
be  worth  any  one's  while  to  enter  as  a  candidate.  The 
qualifications  are  so  easy,  that  he  need  never  doubt  the 
chance  of  his  success,  for  he  has  only  to  knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  him.  The  principal  requisites  for 
admission,  in  a  literary  point  of  view,  are  as  follows. 
First,  an  inordinate  share  of  affectation  and  conceit,  with 
a  few  occasional  good  things  sprinkled,  like  green  spots 
of  verdure  in  a  wilderness,  with  a  "pared,  quod  satis  est 
manu."  Secondly,  a  prodigious  quantity  of  assurance, 
that  neither  God  nor  man  can  daunt,  founded  on  the 
honest  principle  of  "  who  is  like  unto  me  ?"  and  lastly,  a 
contempt  for  all  institutions,  moral  and  divine,  with  secret 
yearnings  for  aught  that  is  degrading  to  human  nature, 
or  revolting  to  decency.  These  qualifications  ensured,  a 
regular  initiation  into  the  Cockney  mysteries  follows  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  the  novice  enlists  himself  under 
their  banners,  proud  of  his  newly-acquired  honors,  and 
starched  up  to  the  very  throat  in  all  the  prim  stiffness  of 
his  intellect.  A  few  symptoms  of  this  literary  malady 
appeared  as  early  as  the  year  1795,  but  it  then  assumed 
the  guise  of  simplicity  and  pathos.  It  was  a  poetical 
Lord  Fanny.  It  wept  its  pretty  self  to  death  by  murmur- 
ing brooks,  and  rippling  cascades,  it  heaved  delicious  sighs 
over  sentimental  lambs,  and  love-lorn  sheep,  apostrophized 
donkies  in  the  innocence  of  primaeval  nature ;  sung  tender 
songs  to  tender  nightingales;  went  to  bed  without  a 
candle,  that  it  might  gaze  on  the  chubby  faces  of  the  stars ; 

116 


SHELLEY'S   THE   CENCI  117 

discoursed  sweet  nothings  to  al!  who  would  listen  to  its 
nonsense;  and  displayed  (Jwrrendum  dictu)  the  acute 
profundity  of  its  grief  in  ponderous  folios  and  spiral  duo- 
decimos. The  literary  world,  little  suspecting  the  dan- 
gerous consequences  of  this  distressing  malady,  suffered 
it  to  germinate  in  silence ;  and  not  until  they  became  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  the  disorder  was  of  an  epidemical 
nature,  did  they  start  from  their  long  continued  lethargy. 
But  it  was  then  too  late!  The  evil  was  incurable;  it 
branched  out  into  the  most  vigorous  ramifications,  and 
following  the  scriptural  admonition,  "  Increase  and  multi- 
ply," disseminated  its  poetry  and  its  prose  throughout  a 
great  part  of  England.  As  a  dog,  when  once  completely 
mad,  is  never  satisfied  until  he  has  bitten  half  a  dozen 
more,  so  the  Cockney  professors,  in  laudable  zeal  for  the 
propagation  of  their  creed,  were  never  at  rest  until  they 
had  spread  their  own  doctrines  around  them.  They  stood 
on  the  house  tops  and  preached,  'till  of  a  verity  they  were 
black  in  the  face  with  the  heating  quality  of  their  argu- 
ments ;  they  stationed  themselves  by  the  bye  roads  and 
hedges,  to  discuss  the  beauties  of  the  country ;  they  looked 
out  from  their  garrett  [sic]  windows  in  Grub-street,  and 
exclaimed,  "0/  rns,  qnando  ego  te  aspiciam;"  and  gave 
such  afflicting  tokens  of  insanity,  that  the  different  re- 
viewers and  satirists  of  the  day  kindly  laced  them  in  the 
strait  jackets  of  their  criticism.  "  But  all  this  availeth 
us  nothing,"  exclaimed  the  critics,  "  so  long  as  we  see 
Mordecai  the  Jew  sitting  at  the  gate  of  the  Temple ;  that 
is  to  say,  as  long  as  there  is  one  Cockney  pericranium  left 
unscalped  by  the  tomahawks  of  our  satire."  But  not- 
withstanding the  strenuous  exertions  of  all  those  whose 
brains  have  not  been  cast  in  the  mould  of  this  new  species 
of  intellectual  dandyism,  the  evil  has  been  daily  and  even 
hourly  increasing;  and  so  prodigious  is  the  progressive 


ii8  THE  LONDON   MAGAZINE 

ratio  of  its  inarch,  that  the  worthy  Society  for  the  Sup- 
pression of  Vice  should  be  called  upon  to  eradicate  it.  It 
now  no  longer  masks  its  real  intentions  under  affected 
purity  of  sentiment ;  its  countenance  has  recently  acquired 
a  considerable  addition  of  brass,  the  glitter  of  which  has 
often  been  mistaken  for  sterling  coin,  and  incest,  adultery, 
murder,  blasphemy,  are  among  other  favorite  topics  of 
its  discussion.  It  seems  to  delight  in  an  utter  perversion 
of  all  moral,  intellectual,  and  religious  qualities.  It  gluts 
over  the  monstrous  deformities  of  nature ;  finds  gratifica- 
tion in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  crime  it  extolls ; 
and  sees  no  virtue  but  in  vice ;  no  sin,  but  in  true  feeling. 
Like  poor  Tom,  in  Lear,  whom  the  foul  fiend  has  pos- 
sessed for  many  a  day,  it  will  run  through  ditches,  through 
quagmires,  and  through  bogs,  to  see  a  man  stand  on  his 
head  for  the  exact  space  of  half  an  hour.  Ask  the  reason 
of  this  raging  appetite  for  eccentricity,  the  answer  is,  such 
a  thing  is  out  of  the  beaten  track  of  manhood,  ergo,  it  is 
praiseworthy. 

Among  the  professors  of  the  Cockney  school,  Mr. 
Percy  Bysshe  Shell [e]y  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous. 
With  more  fervid  imagination  and  splendid  talents  than 
nine-tenths  of  the  community,  he  yet  prostitutes  those 
talents  by  the  utter  degradation  to  which  he  unequivocally 
consigns  them.  His  Rosalind  and  Helen,  his  Revolt  of 
Islam,  and  his  Alastor,  or  the  Spirit  of  Solitude,  while, 
they  possess  beauties  of  a  superior  order,  are  lamentably 
deficient  in  morality  and  religion.  The  doctrines  they 
inculcate  are  of  the  most  evil  tendency;  the  characters 
they  depict  are  of  the  most  horrible  description ;  but  in 
the  midst  of  these  disgraceful  passages,  there  are  beauties 
of  such  exquisite,  such  redeeming  qualities,  that  we  adore 
while  we  pity — we  admire  while  we  execrate — and  are 
tempted  to  exclaim  with  the  last  of  the  Romans,  "  Oh  I 


SHELLEY'S    THE   CENCI  119 

what  a  fall  is  here,  my  countrymen."  In  the  modern 
Eclogue  of  Rosalind  and  Helen  in  particular,  there  is  a 
pensive  sadness,  a  delicious  melancholy,  nurst  in  the 
purest,  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  heart,  and  springing  up 
like  a  fountain  in  the  desert,  that  pervades  the  poem,  and 
forms  its  prihcipal  attraction.  The  rich  yet  delicate 
imagery  that  is  every  where  scattered  over  it,  is  like  the 
glowing  splendor  of  the  setting  sun,  when  he  retires  to 
rest,  amid  the  blessings  of  exulting  nature.  It  is  the 
balmy  breath  of  the  summer  breeze,  the  twilight's  last  and 
holiest  sigh.  In  the  dramatic  poem  before  us,  the  interest 
is  of  a  different  nature ;  it  is  dark — wild,  and  unearthly. 
The  characters  that  appear  in  it  are  of  no  mortal  stamp; 
they  are  daemons  in  human  guise,  inscrutable  in  their 
actions,  subtle  in  their  revenge.  Each  has  his  smile  of 
awful  meaning — his  purport  of  hellish  tendency.  The 
tempest  that  rages  in  his  bosom  is  irrepressible  but  by 
death.  The  phrenzied  groan  that  diseased  imagination 
extorts  from  his  perverted  soul,  is  as  the  thunder-clap 
that  reverberates  amid  the  cloud-capt  summits  of  the 
Alps.  It  is  the  storm  that  convulses  all  nature — that  lays 
bare  the  face  of  heaven,  and  gives  transient  glimpses  of 
destruction  yet  to  be.  Then  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
accumulated  horrors  comes  the  gentle  Beatrice, 

"  Who  in  the  gentleness  of  thy  sweet  youth 
Hast  never  trodden  on  a  worm,  or  bruised 
A  living  flower,  but  thou  hast  pitied  it 
With  needless  tears."     Page  50. 

She  walks  in  the  light  of  innocence ;  in  the  unclouded 
sunshine  of  loveliness  and  modesty;  but  her  felicity  is 
transient  as  the  calm  that  precedes  the  tempest ;  and  in 
the  very  whispers  of  her  virtue,  you  hear  the  indistinct 
muttering  of  the  distant  thunder.     She  is  conceived  in  the 


120  THE  LONDON   MAGAZINE 

true  master  spirit  of  genius;  and  in  the  very  instant  of 
her  parricide,  comes  home  to  our  imagination  fresh  in 
the  spring  time  of  innocence — hallowed  in  the  deepest 
recesses  of  melancholy.  But  notwithstanding  all  these 
transcendant  qualities,  there  are  numerous  passages  that 
warrant  our  introductory  observations  respecting  the 
Cockney  school,  and  plunge  "  full  fathom  five,"  into  the 
profoundest  depths  of  the  Bathos.  While,  therefore,  we 
do  justice  to  the  abilities  of  the  author,  we  shall  bestow 
a  passing  smile  or  two  on  his  unfortunate  Cockney  pro- 
pensities. 

The  following  are  the  principal  incidents  of  the  play. 
Count  Cenci,  the  dcsmon  of  the  piece,  delighted  with  the 
intelligence  of  the  death  of  two  of  his  sons,  recounts  at  a 
large  assembly,  specially  invited  for  the  purpose,  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  dreadful  transaction.  Lucretia,  his 
wife,  Beatrice,  his  daughter,  and  the  other  guests,  are  of 
course  startled  at  his  transports;  but  when  they  hear  his 
awful  imprecations, 

"  Oh,  thou  bright  wine  whose  purple  splendor  leaps 
And  bubbles  gaily  in  this  golden  bowl 
Under  the  lamp  light,  as  my  spirits  do, 
To  hear  the  death  of  my  accursed  sons ! 
Could  I  believe  thou  wert  their  mingled  blood, 
Then  would  I  taste  thee  like  a  sacrament. 
And  pledge  with  thee  the  mighty  Devil  in  Hell, 
Who,  if  a  father's  curses,  as  men  say, 
Climb  with  swift  wings  after  their  children's  souls, 
And  drag  them  from  the  very  throne  of  Heaven, 
Now  triumphs  in  my  triumph! — But  thou  art 
Superfluous;  I  have  drunken  deep  of  joy 
And  I  will  taste  no  other  wine  tonight — " 

their  horror  induces  them  to  leave  the  room.  Beatrice, 
in  the  meantime,  who  has  been  rating  her  parent  for  his 
cruelty,  is  subjected  to  every  species  of  insult;  and  he 


SHELLEY'S   THE   CENCI  i2i 

sends  her  to  her  own  apartment,  with  the  helhsh  intention 
of  prostituting  her  innocence,  and  contaminating,  as  he 
pithily  expresses  it,  "  both  body  and  soul."  The  second 
act  introduces  us  to  a  tete-a-tete  between  Bernardo 
(another  of  Cenci's  sons)  and  Lucretia;  when  their  con- 
ference is  suddenly  broken  off,  by  the  abrupt  entrance  of 
Beatrice,  who  has  escaped  from  the  pursuit  of  the  Count. 
She  recapitulates  the  injuries  she  has  received  from  her 
father,  the  most  atrocious  of  which  appear  to  be,  that  he 
has  given  them  all  "  ditch  water  "  to  drink,  and  "  buffa- 
los  "  to  eat.  But  before  we  proceed  further,  we  have  a 
word  or  two  respecting  this  same  ditch  water,  and  buffa- 
lo's flesh,  which  we  shall  mention,  as  a  piece  of  advice  to 
the  author.  It  is  well  known,  we  believe,  in  a  case  of 
lunacy,  that  the  first  thing  considered  is,  whether  the 
patient  has  done  any  thing  sufficiently  foolish,  to  induce  his 
relatives  to  apply  for  a  statute  against  him :  now  any 
malicious,  evil-minded  person,  were  he  so  disposed,  might 
make  successful  application  to  the  court  against  the  luck- 
less author  of  the  Cenci,  a  tragedy  in  'five  acts.  Upon 
which  the  judge  with  all  the  solemnity  suitable  to  so 
melancholy  a  circumstance  as  the  decay  of  the  mental 
faculties,  would  ask  for  proofs  of  the  defendant's  lunacy ; 
upon  which  the  plaintiff  would  produce  the  affecting  epi- 
sode of  the  ditch  water  and  buffalo  flesh ;  upon  which  the 
judge  would  shake  his  head,  and  acknowledge  the  in- 
sanity ;  upon  which  the  defendant  would  be  incarcerated 
in  Bedlam. 

To  return  from  this  digression,  we  are  next  introduced 
to  Giacomo,  another  of  Cenci's  hopeful  progeny,  who, 
like  the  rest,  has  a  dreadful  tale  to  unfold  of  his  father's 
cruelty  towards  him.  Orsino,  the  favored  lover  of 
Beatrice,  enters  at  the  moment  of  his  irritation  ;  and  by  the 
most  artful  pleading  ultimately  incites  him  to  the  murder 


122  THE   LONDON    MAGAZINE 

of  his  father,  in  which  he  is  to  be  joined  by  the  rest  of 
the  family.  The  plot,  after  one  unlucky  attempt,  suc- 
ceeds; and  at  the  moment  of  its  accompHshment,  is  dis- 
covered by  a  messenger,  who  is  despatched  to  the  lonely 
castle  of  Petrella  (one  of  the  Count's  family  residences), 
with  a  summons  of  attendance  from  the  Pope.  We  need 
hardly  say  that  the  criminals  are  condemned ;  and  not  even 
the  lovely  Beatrice  is  able  to  escape  the  punishment  of  the 
law.  The  agitation  she  experiences  after  the  commission 
of  the  incest,  is  powerfully  descriptive. 

"  How  comes  this  hair  undone  ? 
Its  wandering  strings  must  be  what  blind  me  so. 
And  yet  I  tied  it  fast. — O,  horrible ! 
The  pavement  sinks  under  my  feet !    The  walls 
Spin  round !   I  see  a  woman  weeping  there, 
And  standing  calm  and  motionless,  whilst  I 
Slide  giddily  as  the  world  reels — My  God ! 
The  beautiful  blue  heaven  is  flecked  with  blood! 
The  sunshine  on  the  floor  is  black !    The  air 
Is  changed  to  vapours  such  as  the  dead  breathe 
In  charnel  pits !    Pah !    I  am  choaked !    There  creeps 
A  clinging,  black,  contaminating  mist 
About  me — 'tis  substantial,  heavy,  thick, 
I  cannot  pluck  it  from  me,  for  it  glues 
My  fingers  and  my  limbs  to  one  another, 
And  eats  into  my  sinews,  and  dissolves 
My  flesh  to  a  pollution,  poisoning 
The  subtle,  pure,  and  inmost  spirit  of  life !" 

At  first  she  concludes  that  she  is  mad ;  but  then  pa- 
thetically checks  herself  by  saying,  "  No,  I  am  dead." 
Lucretia  naturally  enough  inquires  into  the  cause  of  her 
disquietude,  and  but  too  soon  discovers,  by  the  broken 
hints  of  the  victim,  the  source  of  her  mental  agitation. 
Terrified  at  their  defenceless  state,  they  then  mutually 
conspire  with  Orsino  against  the  Count ;  and  Beatrice  pro- 


SHELLEY'S    THE   CENCI  123 

poses  to  way-lay  him  (a  plot,  hcwever,  which  fails)  in  a 
deep  and  dark  ravine,  as  he  journeys  to  Petrella. 

"  But  I  remember 
Two  miles  on  this  side  of  the  fort,  the  road 
Crosses  a  deep  ravine;  'tis  rough  and  narrow. 
And  winds  with  short  turns  down  the  precipice; 
And  in  its  depth  there  is  a  mighty  rock, 
Which  has,  from  unimaginable  years. 
Sustained  itself  with  terror  and  with  toil 
Over  a  gulph,  and  with  the  agony 
With  which  it  clings  seems  slowly  coming  down ; 
Even  as  a  wretched  soul  hour  after  hour, 
Clings  to  the  mass  of  life;  yet  clinging,  leans; 
And  leaning,  makes  more  dark  the  dread  abyss 
In  which  it  fears  to  fall :    beneath  this  crag 
Huge  as  despair,  as  if  in  weariness. 
The  melancholy  mountain  yawns — below, 
You  hear  but  see  not  an  impetuous  torrent 
Raging  among  the  caverns,  and  a  bridge 
Crosses  the  chasm;  and  high  above  there  grow, 
With  intersecting  trunks,  from  crag  to  crag, 
Cedars,  and  yews,  and  pines;  whose  tangled  hair 
Is  matted  in  one  solid  roof  of  shade 
By  the  dark  ivy's  twine.     At  noon  day  here 
'Tis  twilight,  and  at  sunset  blackest  night." 

Giacomo,  meanwhile,  who  was  privy  to  the  transaction, 
awaits  the  arrival  of  Orsino,  with  intelligence  of  the  mur- 
der, in  a  state  of  the  most  fearful  torture  and  suspence. 

"  Tis  midnight,  and  Orsino  comes  not  yet. 
{Thunder,  and  the  sound  of  a  storm.) 
What!    can  the  everlasting  elements 
Feel  with  a  worm  like  man?    If  so,  the  shaft 
Of  mercy-winged  lightning  would  not  fall 
On  stones  and  trees.     My  wife  and  children  sleep : 
They  are  now  living  in  unmeaning  dreams : 
But  I  must  wake,  still  doubting  if  that  deed 
Be  just  which  was  most  necessary.     O, 


124  THE   LONDON    MAGAZINE 

Thou  unreplenished  lamp !    whose  narrow  fire 
Is  shaken  by  the  wind,  and  on  whose  edge 
Devouring  darkness  hovers !    Thou  small  flame, 
Which,  as  a  dying  pulse  rises  and  falls, 
Still  flickerest  up  and  down,  how  very  soon, 
Did  I  not  feed  thee,  thou  wouldst  fail  and  be 
As  thou  hadst  never  been !   So  wastes  and  sinks 
Even  now,  perhaps,  the  life  that  kindled  mine: 
But  that  no  power  can  fill  with  vital  oil 
That  broken  lamp  of  flesh.     Ha !    'tis  the  blood 
Which  fed  these  veins  that  ebbs  till  all  is  cold : 
It  is  the  form  that  moulded  mine  that  sinks 
Into  the  white  and  yellow  spasms  of  death: 
It  is  the  soul  by  which  mine  was  arrayed 
In  God's  immortal  likeness  which  now  stands 
Naked  before  Heaven's  j  udgment  seat ! 

(o  bell  strikes) 
One !    Two ! 
The  hours  crawl  on ;  and  when  my  hairs  are  white 
My  son  will  then  perhaps  be  waiting  thus. 
Tortured  between  just  hate  and  vain  remorse; 
Chiding  the  tardy  messenger  of  news 
Like  those  which  I  expect.     I  almost  wish 
He  be  not  dead,  although  my  wrongs  are  great ; 
Yet — 'tis  Orsino's  step." 

We  envy  not  the  feelings  of  any  one  who  can  read  the 
curses  that  Cenci  invokes  on  his  daughter,  when  she  re- 
fuses to  repeat  her  guilt,  without  the  strongest  disgust, 
notwithstanding  the  intense  vigor  of  the  imprecations 

" Cen.     (Kneeling)   God! 
Hear  me !   If  this  most  specious  mass  of  flesh. 
Which  thou  hast  made  my  daughter;  this  my  blood, 
This  particle  of  my  divided  being; 
Or  rather,  this  my  bane  and  my  disease, 
Whose  sight  infects  and  poisons  me;  this  devil 
Which  sprung  from  me  as  from  a  hell,  was  meant 
To  aught  good  use;  if  her  bright  loveliness 
Was  kindled  to  illumine  this  dark  world; 
If  nursed  by  thy  selectest  dew  of  love 


SHELLEY'S    THE   CENCI  125 

Such  virtues  blossom  in  her  as  should  make 
The  peace  of  life,  I  pray  thee  for  my  sake 
As  thou  the  common  God  and  Father  art 
Of  her,  and  me,  and  all ;  reverse  that  doom ! 
Earth,  in  the  name  of  God,  let  her  food  be 
Poison,  until  she  be  encrusted  round 
With  leprous  stains !    Heaven,  rain  upon  her  head 
The  blistering  drops  of  the  Maremma's  dew. 
Till  she  be  speckled  like  a  toad ;  parch  up 
Those  love-enkindled  lips,  warp  those  fine  limbs 
To  loathed  lameness !    All  beholding  sun. 
Strike  in  thine  envy  those  life  darting  eyes 
With  thine  own  blinding  beams ! 

Lucr.    Peace !    Peace ! 
For  thine  own  sake  unsay  those  dreadful  words. 
When  high  God  grants  he  punishes  such  prayers. 

Cen.     (Leaping  up,  and  throwing  his  right  hand  toward 
Heaven) 
He  does  his  will,  I  mine !    This  in  addition. 
That  if  she  have  a  child — 

Lucr.    Horrible  thought ! 

Cen.     That  if  she  ever  have  a  child ;  and  thou. 
Quick  Nature !    I  adj  ure  thee  by  thy  God, 
That  thou  be  fruitful  in  her,  and  encrease 
And  multiply,  fulfilling  his  command, 
And  my  deep  imprecation !    May  it  be 
A  hideous  likeness  of  herself,  that  as 
From  a  distorting  mirror,  she  may  see 
Her  image  mixed  with  what  she  most  abhors, 
Smiling  upon  her  from  her  nursing  breast. 
And  that  the  child  may  from  its  infancy 
Grow,  day  by  day,  more  wicked  and  deformed, 
Turning  her  mother's  love  to  misery : 
And  that  both  she  and  it  may  live  until 
It  shall  repay  her  care  and  pain  with  hate, 
Or  what  may  else  be  more  unnatural. 
So  he  may  hunt  her  thro'  the  clamorous  scoflfs 
Of  the  loud  world  to  a  dishonoured  grave. 
Shall  I  revoke  this  curse?    Go,  bid  her  come. 
Before  my  words  are  chronicled  in  Heaven. 

(Exit  LUCRETIA.) 


126  THE  LONDON   MAGAZINE 

I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  were  a  man, 

But  like  a  fiend  appointed  to  chastise 

The  offences  of  some  unremembered  world. 

My  blood  is  running  up  and  down  my  veins ; 

A  fearful  pleasure  makes  it  prick  and  tingle: 

I  feel  a  giddy  sickness  of  strange  awe ; 

My  heart  is  beating  with  an  expectation 

Of  horrid  joy." 

Ohe!  jam  satis  est!! — The  minutiae  of  this  affectionate 
parent's  curses  forcibly  remind  us  of  the  equally  minute 
excommunication  so  admirably  recorded  in  Tristram 
Shandy.  But  Sterne  has  the  start  of  him ;  for  though 
Percy  Bysshe  Shell  [e]y,  Esquire,  has  contrived  to  include 
in  the  imprecations  of  Cenci,  the  eyes,  head,  lips,  and  limbs 
of  his  daughter,  the  other  has  anticipated  his  measures,  in 
formally  and  specifically  anathematizing  the  lights,  lungs, 
liver,  and  all  odd  joints,  without  excepting  even  the  great 
toe  of  his  victim. — To  proceed  in  our  review ;  the  dying 
expostulations  of  poor  Beatrice,  are  beautiful  and  affect- 
ing, though  occasionally  tinged  with  the  Cockney  style 
of  burlesque;  for  instance,  Bernado  asks,  when  they  tear 
him  from  the  embraces  of  his  sister, 

"  Would  ye  divide  body  from  soul  ?" 

On  which  the  judge  sturdily  replies — "  That  is  the  heads- 
man's business."  The  idea  of  approaching  execution 
paralyses  the  soul  of  Beatrice,  and  she  thus  frantically  ex- 
presses her  horror. 

"Beatr.  (Wildly)  Oh, 
My  God !    Can  it  be  possible  I  have 
To  die  so  suddenly?    So  young  to  go 
Under  the  obscure,  cold,  rotting,  wormy  ground! 
To  be  nailed  down  into  a  narrow  place; 
To  see  no  more  sweet  sunshine;  hear  no  more 


SHELLEY'S    THE   CENCI  127 

Blithe  voice  of  living  thing;  muse  not  again 

Upon  familiar  thoughts,  sad,  yet  thus  lost. 

How  fearful !    to  be  nothing !    Or  to  be — 

What  ?   O,  where  am  I  ?   Let  me  not  go  mad ! 

Sweet  Heaven,  forgive  weak  thoughts!    If  there  should 

be 
No  God,  no  Heaven,  no  Earth  in  the  void  world; 
The  wide,  grey,  lampless,  deep,  unpeopled  world! 
If  all  things  then  should  be — my  father's  spirit 
His  eye,  his  voice,  his  touch  surrounding  me; 
The  atmosphere  and  breath  of  my  dead  life! 
If  sometimes,  as  a  shape  more  like  himself. 
Even  the  form  which  tortured  me  on  earth, 
Masked  in  grey  hairs  and  wrinkles,  he  should  come 
And  wind  me  in  his  hellish  arms,  and  fix 
His  eyes  on  mine,  and  drag  me  down,  down,  down !" 

The  author,  in  his  preface,  observes  that  he  has  com- 
mitted only  one  plagiarism  in  his  play.  But  with  all  the 
triumph  of  vanity,  we  here  stoutly  convict  him  of  having 
wilfully,  maliciously  and  despitefully  stolen,  the  pleasing 
idea  of  the  repetition  of  "  down,  down,  down,"  from  the 
equally  pathetic  and  instructive  ditty  of  "  up,  up,  up,"  in 
Tom  Thumb;  the  exordium  or  prolegomena  to  which 
floweth  sweetly  and  poetically  thus : — 

"  Here  we  go  up,  up,  up, 

And  here  we  go  dozvn,  down,  down!" 

In  taking  leave  of  Mr.  Shelley,  we  have  a  few  observa- 
tions to  whisper  in  his  ear.  That  he  has  the  seedlings  of 
poetry  in  his  composition  no  one  can  deny,  after  the 
perusal  of  many  of  our  extracts ;  that  he  employs  them 
worthily,  is  more  than  can  be  advanced.  His  style, 
though  disgraced  by  occasional  puerilities,  and  simpering 
affectations,  is  in  general  bold,  vigorous,  and  manly;  but 
the  disgraceful  fault  to  which  we  object  in  his  writings,  is 


128  THE   LONDON    MAGAZINE 

the  scorn  he  every  where  evinces  for  all  that  is  moral  or 
religious.  If  he  must  be  skeptical — if  he  must  be  lax  in 
his  human  codes  of  excellence,  let  him  be  so ;  but  in  God's 
name  let  him  not  publish  his  principles,  and  cram  them 
down  the  throats  of  others.  Existence  in  its  present  state 
is  heavy  enough ;  and  if  we  take  away  the  idea  of  eternal 
happiness,  however  visionary  it  may  appear  to  some,  who 
or  what  is  to  recompence  us  for  the  loss  we  have  sus- 
tained? Will  scepticism  lighten  the  bed  of  death? — Will 
vice  soothe  the  pillow  of  declining  age  ?  If  so !  let  us  all 
be  sceptics,  let  us  all  be  vicious ;  but  until  their  admirable 
efficacy  is  proved,  let  us  jog  on  the  beaten  course  of  life, 
neither  influenced  by  the  scoff  of  infidelity,  nor  fascinated 
by  the  dazzling  but  flimsy  garb  of  licentiousness  and 
immorality. — The  London  Magazine. 


Adonais.    An  Elegy,  on  the  Death  df  Mr.  John  Keats. 
By  P.  B.  Shelley. 

We  have  already  given  some  of  our  columns  to  this 
writer's  merits,  and  v^re  will  not  now  repeat  our  convictions 
of  his  incurable  absurdity.  On  the  last  occasion  of  our 
alluding  to  him,  we  were  compelled  to  notice  his  horrid 
licentiousness  and  profaneness,  his  fearful  offences  to  all 
the  maxims  that  honorable  minds  are  in  the  habit  of  re- 
specting, and  his  plain  defiance  of  Christianity.  On  the 
present  occasion  we  are  not  met  by  so  continued  and  regu- 
lar a  determination  of  insult,  though  there  are  atrocities  to 
be  found  in  the  poem  quite  enough  to  make  us  caution  our 
readers  against  its  pages.  Adonais  is  an  elegy  after  the 
manner  of  Moschus,  on  a  foolish  young  man,  who,  after 
writing  some  volumes  of  very  weak,  and,  in  the  greater 
part,  of  very  indecent  poetry,  died  some  time  since  of  a 
consumption  :  the  breaking  down  of  an  infirm  constitution 
having,  in  all  probability,  been  accelerated  by  the  discard- 
ing his  neck  cloth,  a  practice  of  the  cockney  poets,  who 
look  upon  it  as  essential  to  genius,  inasmuch  as  neither 
Michael  Angelo,  Raphael  or  Tasso  are  supposed  to  have 
worn  those  antispiritual  incumbrances.  In  short,  as  the 
vigour  of  Sampson  lay  in  his  hair,  the  secret  of  talent 
with  these  persons  lies  in  the  neck;  and  what  aspirations 
can  be  expected  from  a  mind  enveloped  in  muslin.  Keats 
caught  cold  in  training  for  a  genius,  and,  after  a  lingering 
illness,  died,  to  the  great  loss  of  the  Independents  of 
South  America,  whom  he  had  intended  to  visit  with  an 
English  epic  poem,  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  them  to 
liberty.  But  death,  even  the  death  of  the  radically  pre- 
sumptuous profligate,  is  a  serious  thing;  and  as  we 
12  _  129 


130  THE   LITERARY   GAZETTE 

believe  that  Keats  was  made  presumptuous  chiefly  by  the 
treacherous  puffing  of  his  cockney  fellow  gossips,  and 
profligate  in  his  poems  merely  to  make  them  saleable,  we 
regret  that  he  did  not  live  long  enough  to  acquire  com- 
mon sense,  and  abjure  the  pestilent  and  perfidious  gang 
who  betrayed  his  weakness  to  the  grave,  and  are  now 
panegyrising  his  memory  into  contempt.  For  what  is  the 
praise  of  cockneys  but  disgrace,  or  what  honourable  in- 
scription can  be  placed  over  the  dead  by  the  hands  of  no- 
torious libellers,  exiled  adulterers,  and  avowed  atheists. 
Adonais,  an  Elegy,  is  the  form  in  which  Mr.  Shelley 
puts  forth  his  woes.  We  give  a  verse  at  random,  pre- 
V  mising  that  there  is  no  story  in  the  elegy,  and  that  it 
consists  of  fifty-five  stanzas,  which  are,  to  our  seeming, 
altogether  unconnected,  inter jectional,  and  nonsensical. 
We  give  one  that  we  think  among  the  more  comprehen- 
sible.    An  address  to  Urania : — 

"  Most  musical  of  mourners,  weep  anew ! 

Not  all  to  that  bright  station  dared  to  climb; 
And  happier  they  their  happiness  who  knew. 

Whose  tapers  yet  burn  thro'  that  night  of  time 
In  which  suns  perish'd;  Others  more  sublime, 

Struck  by  the  envious  wroth  of  man  or  God  ! ! 
Have  sunk  extinct  in  their  refulgent  prime; 

And  some  yet  live,"  &c. 

Now  what  is  the  meaning  of  this,  or  of  any  sentence  of 
it,  except  indeed  that  horrid  blasphemy  which  attributes 
crime  to  the  Great  Author  of  all  virtue !  The  rest  is 
mere  empty  absurdity.  If  it  were  worth  our  while  to 
dilate  on  the  folly  of  the  production,  we  might  find  ex- 
amples of  every  species  of  the  ridiculous  within  those 
few  pages. 

Mr.  Shelley  summons  all  kinds  of  visions  round  the 
grave  of  this  young  man,  who,  if  he  has  now  any  feeling 


SHELLEY'S   ADONAIS  131 

o£  the  earth,  must  shrink  with  shame  and  disgust  from 
the  touch  of  the  hand  that  could  have  written  that  im- 
pious sentence.  These  he  classifies  under  names,  the 
greater  number  as  new  we  believe  to  poetry  as  strange 
to  common  sense.     Those  are — 

"  Desires  and  Adorations 


Winged  Persuasions  and  veiled  Destinies, 
Splendours,  and   Glooms,  and  glimmering  Incarnations 

Of  hopes  and  fears  and  twilight  Phantasies, 
And  Sorrow  with  her  family  of  Sighs, 

And  Pleasure,  blind  with  tears!   led  by  the  gleam 
Of  her  own  dying  smile  instead  of  eyes ! !" 

Let  our  readers  try  to  imagine  these  weepers,  and 
close  with  "  blind  Pleasure  led,"  by  what  ?  "  by  the  light 
of  her  own  dying  smile — instead  of  eyes ! ! !" 

We  give  some  specimens  of  Mr.  S.'s 

Nonsense — pastoral. 
"Lost  Echo  sits  amid  the  voiceless  mountains,* 

And  feeds  her  grief  with  his  remember'd  lay. 
And  will  no  more  reply  to  winds  and  fountains." 

Nonsense — physical. 
— "for  whose  disdain  she  (Echo)  pin'd  away 
Into  a  shadow  of  all  sounds!" 

Nonsense — vermicular. 
"  Flowers  springing  from  the  corpse 

illumine   death 

And  mock  the  merry  worm  that  wakes  beneath. 

Nonsense — pathetic. 
"Alas!    that  all  we  lov'd  of  him  should  be 

But  for  our  grief,  as  if  it  had  not  been, 
And  grief  itself  be  mortal!    woe  is  me!" 
Nonsense — nondescrip  t. 
"  In  the  death  chamber  for  a  moment  Death, 
Blush'd  to  annihilation!" 

*  Though  there  is  no  Echo  and  the  mountains  are  voiceless,  the 
woodmen,  nevertheless,  in  the  last  line  of  this  verse  hear  "  a  drear 
murmur  between  their  Songs ! !  " 


132  THE   LITERARY   GAZETTE 

Nonsense — personal. 
"A  pardlike  spirit,  beautiful  and  swift — 
A  love  in  desolation  mask'd; — a  Power 
Girt  round  with  weakness; — it  can  scarce  uplift 
The  weight  of  the  superincumbent  hour!" 

We  have  some  idea  that  this  fragment  of  character 
is  intended  for  Mr.  Shelley  himself.  It  closes  with  a 
passage  of  memorable  and  ferocious  blasphemy: — 

"  He  with  a  sudden  hand 


Made  bare  his  branded  and  ensanguin'd  brow. 
Which  was  like  Cain's  or  Christ's  ! ! !" 

What  can  be  said  to  the  wretched  person  capable  of 
this  daring  profanation.  The  name  of  the  first  murderer 
— the  accurst  of  God — brought  into  the  same  aspect  image 
with  that  of  the  Saviour  of  the  World !  We  are  scarcely 
satisfied  that  even  to  quote  such  passages  may  not  be 
criminal.  The  subject  is  too  repulsive  for  us  to^  pro- 
ceed even  in  expressing  our  disgust  for  the  general  folly 
that  makes  the  Poem  as  miserable  in  point  of  authorship, 
as  in  point  of  principle.  We  know  that  among  a  certain 
class  this  outrage  and  this  inanity  meet  with  some  attempt 
at  palliation,  under  the  idea  that  frenzy  holds  the  pen. 
That  any  man  who  insults  the  common  order  of  society, 
and  denies  the  being  of  God,  is  essentially  mad  we  never 
doubted.  But  for  the  madness,  that  retains  enough  of 
rationality  to  be  wilfully  mischievous,  we  can  have  no 
more  lenity  than  for  the  appetites  of  a  wild  beast.  The 
poetry  of  the  work  is  contemptible — a  mere  collection  of 
bloated  words  heaped  on  each  other  without  order,  har- 
mony, or  meaning;  the  refuse  of  a  schoolboy's  common- 
place book,  full  of  the  vulgarisms  of  pastoral  poetry,  yel- 
low gems  and  blue  stars,  bright  Phoebus  and  rosy- 
fingered  Aurora;  and  of  this  stuff  is  Keats's  wretched 
Elegy  compiled. 


SHELLEY'S   ADONAIS  133 

We  might  add  instances  of  like  incomprehensible  folly 
from  every  stanza.  A  heart  keeping,  a  mute  sleep,  and 
death  feeding  on  a  mute  voice,  occur  in  one  verse  (page  8)  ; 
Spring  in  despair  "  throws  down  her  kindling  buds  as  if 
she  Autumn  were,"  a  thing  we  never  knew  Autumn  do 
with  buds  of  any  sort,  the  kindling  kind  being  unknown  to 
our  botany ;  a  green  lizard  is  like  an  iinimprisoned  /lame, 
waking  out  of  its  trance  (page  13).  In  the  same  page 
the  leprous  corpse  touched  by  the  tender  spirit  of  Spring, 
so  as  to  exhale  itself  in  flowers,  is  compared  to  "  incarna- 
tions of  the  stars,  when  splendour  is  changed  to  fra- 
grance!!!" Urania  (page  15)  wounds  the  "invisible 
palms"  of  her  tender  feet  by  treading  on  human  hearts  as 
she  journeys  to  see  the  corpse.  Page  22,  somebody  is 
asked  to  *'  clasp  with  panting  soul  the  pendulous  earth," 
an  image  which,  we  take  it,  exceeds  that  of  Shakespeare, 
to  "  put  a  girdle  about  it  in  forty  minutes." 

It  is  so  far  a  fortunate  thing  that  this  piece  of  impious 
and  utter  absurdity  can  have  little  circulation  in  Britain. 
The  copy  in  our  hands  is  one  of  some  score  sent  to  the 
Author's  intimates  from  Pisa,  where  it  has  been  printed 
in  a  quarto  form  "  with  the  types  of  Didot,"  and  two 
learned  Epigraphs  from  Plato  and  Moschus.  Solemn  as 
the  subject  is,  (for  in  truth  we  must  grieve  for  the  early 
death  of  any  youth  of  literary  ambition,)  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  help  laughing  at  the  mock  solemnity  with 
which  Shelley  charges  the  Quarterly  Review  for  having 
murdered  his  friend  with — a  critique  !'■'  If  criticism 
killed  the  disciples  of  that  school,  Shelley  would  not 
have  been  alive  to  write  an  Elegy  on  another : — but  the 

*  This  would  have  done  excellently  for  a  coroner's  inquest  like  that 
on  Honey,  which  lasted  thirty  days,  and  was  facetiously  called  the 
"  Honey-moon." 


134  THE   LITERARY    GAZETTE 

whole  is  most  farcical  from  a  pen  which  on  other  occa- 
sions, has  treated  of  the  soul,  the  body,  life  and  death 
agreeably  to  the  opinions,  the  principles,  and  the  practice 
of  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. — The  Literary  Gazette. 


John  Keats 

Endymion:  A  Poetic  Romance.     By  John  Keats.     Lon- 
don.    1818.     pp.  207. 

Reviewers  have  been  sometimes  accused  of  not  reading 
the  works  which  they  affected  to  criticise.  On  the  present 
occasion  we  shall  anticipate  the  author's  complaint,  and 
honestly  confess  that  we  have  not  read  his  work.  Not 
that  we  have  been  wanting  in  our  duty — far  from  it — 
indeed,  we  have  made  efforts  almost  as  superhuman  as 
the  story  itself  appears  to  be,  to  get  through  it ;  but  with 
the  fullest  stretch  of  our  perseverance,  we  are  forced  to 
confess  that  we  have  not  been  able  to  struggle  beyond  the 
first  of  the  four  books  of  which  this  Poetic  Romance 
consists.  We  should  extremely  lament  this  want  of  en- 
ergy, or  whatever  it  may  be,  on  our  parts,  were  it  not 
for  one  consolation — namely,  that  we  are  no  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  meaning  of  the  book  through  which  we 
have  so  painfully  toiled,  than  we  are  with  that  of  the 
three  which  we  have  not  looked  into. 

It  is  not  that  Mr.  Keats,  (if  that  be  his  real  name,  for 
we  almost  doubt  that  any  man  in  his  senses  would  put 
his  real  name  to  such  a  rhapsody,)  it  is  not,  we  say,  that 
the  author  has  not  powers  of  language,  rays  of  fancy, 
and  gleams  of  genius — he  has  all  these;  but  he  is 
unhappily  a  disciple  of  the  new  school  of  what  has  been 
somewhere  called  Cockney  poetry ;  which  may  be  defined 
to  consist  of  the  most  incongruous  ideas  in  the  most  un- 
couth language. 

Of  this  school,  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt,  as  we  observed  in  a 
former  Number,  aspires  to  be  the  hierophant.  Our  read- 
ers will  recollect  the  pleasant  recipes  for  harmonious  and 

135 


136  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

sublime  poetry  which  he  gave  us  in  his  preface  to  '  Rimini/ 
and  the  still  more  facetious  instances  of  his  harmony  and 
sublimity  in  the  verses  themselves ;  and  they  will  recollect 
above  all  the  contempt  of  Pope,  Johnson,  and  such  like 
poetasters  and  pseudo-critics,  which  so  forcibly  contrasted 
itself  with  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt's  self-complacent  approbation 
of 

— '  all  the  things  itself  had  wrote. 

Of  special  merit  though  of  little  note/ 

This  author  is  a  copyist  of  Mr.  Hunt ;  but  he  is  more 
unintelligible,  almost  as  rugged,  twice  as  diffuse,  and 
ten  times  more  tiresome  and  absurd  than  his  prototype, 
who,  though  he  impudently  presumed  to  seat  himself  in 
the  chair  of  criticism,  and  to  measure  his  own  poetry  by 
his  own  standard,  yet  generally  had  a  meaning.  But  Mr. 
Keats  has  advanced  no  dogmas  which  he  was  bound  to 
support  by  examples ;  his  nonsense  therefore  is  quite 
gratuitous ;  he  writes  it  for  its  own  sake,  and,  being  bitten 
by  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt's  insane  criticism,  more  than  rivals 
the  insanity  of  his  poetry. 

Mr.  Keats's  preface  hints  that  his  poem  was  produced 
under  peculiar  circumstances. 

'  Knowing  within  myself  (he  says)  the  manner  in  which  this 
Poem  has  been  produced,  it  is  not  without  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
I  make  it  public. — What  manner  I  mean,  will  be  quite  clear  to  the 
reader,  who  must  soon  perceive  great  inexperience,  immaturity, 
and  every  error  denoting  a  feverish  attempt,  rather  than  a  deed 
accomplished.' — Preface,  p.  vii. 

We  humbly  beg  his  pardon,  but  this  does  not  appear 
to  us  to  be  quite  so  clear — we  really  do  not  know  what  he 
means — but  the  next  passage  is  more  intelligible. 


KEATS'   ENDYMION  137 

'The  two  first  books,  and  indeed  the  two  last,  I  feel  sensible 
are  not  of  such  completion  as  to  warrant  their  passing  the  press.' 
— Preface,  p.  vii. 

Thus  '  the  two  first  books '  are,  even  in  his  own  judg- 
ment, unfit  to  appear,  and  '  the  two  last '  are,  it  seems, 
in  the  same  condition — and  as  two  and  two  make  four,  and 
as  that  is  the  whole  number  of  books,  we  have  a  clear  and, 
we  believe,  a  very  just  estimate  of  the  entire  work. 
-''*'  Mr.  Keats,  however,  deprecates  criticism  on  this  '  im- 
mature and  feverish  work '  in  terms  which  are  themselves 
sufficiently  feverish ;  and  we  confess  that  we  should  have 
abstained  from  inflicting  upon  him  any  of  the  tortures 
of  the  '  fierce  hell '  of  criticism,  which  terrify  his  imagina- 
tion, if  he  had  not  begged  to  be  spared  in  order  that  he 
might  write  more;  if  we  had  not  observed  in  him  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  talent  which  deserves  to  be  put  in  the  right 
way,  or  which,  at  least,  ought  to  be  warned  of  the  wrong ; 
and  if,  finally,  he  had  not  told  us  that  he  is  of  an  age  and 
temper  which  imperiously  require  mental  discipline. 

Of  the  story  we  have  been  able  to  make  out  but  little ;  '^s^ 
it  seems  to  be  mythological,  and  probably  relates  to  the  /' 
loves  of  Diana  and  Endymion';   but  of  this,  as  the  scope  y 
of  the  work  has  altogether  escaped  us,  we  cannot  speak 
with  any  degree  of  certainty;  and  must  therefore  content 
ourselves  with  giving  some  instances  of  its  diction  and 
versification :— and  ..here   again..,  we   are.„p£rpIexed^jTid___ 
puzzled. — At  first  it  appeared  to  us,  that  Mr.  Keats  had 
been  amusing  himself  and  wearying  his  readers  with  an 
immeasurable  game  at  bouts-rimes;    but,  if  we  recollect 
rightly,  it  is  an  indispensable  condition  at  this  play,  that 
the  rhymes  when  filled  up  shall  have  a  meaning;    and 
our  author,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  has  no  meaning. 
/'  He  seems  to  us  to  write  a  line  at  random,  and  then  he    "N 
V   follows  not  the  thought  excited  by  this  line,  but  that       ) 


138  THE   QUARTERLY  REVIEW 

suggested  by  the  rhyme  with  which  it  concludes.  There 
IsT  hardly  a  complete  couplet  enclosing  a  complete  idea 
in  the  whole  book.  He  wanders  from  one  subject  to  an- 
other, from  the  association,  not  of  the  ideas  but  of  sounds, 
and  the  work  is  composed  of  hemistichs  which,  it  is  quite 
evident,  have  forced  themselves  upon  the  author  by  the 
mere  force  of  the  catchwords  on  which  they  turn. 

We  shall  select,  not  as  the  most  striking  instance, 
but  as  that  least  liable  to  suspicion,  a  passage  from  the 
opening  of  the  poem. 

'  Such  the  sun,  the  moon. 

Trees  old  and  young,  sprouting  a  shady  boon 

For  simple  sheep;  and  such  are  dafifodils 

With  the  green  world  they  live  in ;  and  clear  rills 

That  for  themselves  a  cooling  covert  make 

'Gainst  the  hot  season;  the  mid  forest  brake. 

Rich  with  a  sprinkling  of  fair  musk-rose  blooms : 

And  such  too  is  the  grandeur  of  the  dooms 

We  have  imagined  for  the  mighty  dead ;  &c.  &c.' — pp.  3, 4. 

Here  it  is  clear  that  the  word,  and  not  the  idea,  moon 
produces  the  simple  sheep  and  their  shady  boon,  and 
that  '  the  dooms  of  the  mighty  dead '  would  never  have 
intruded  themselves  but  for  the  'fair  musk-rose  blooms/ 

Again. 

'  For  'twas  the  mom :   Apollo's  upward  fire 
Made  every  eastern  cloud  a  silvery  pyre 
Of  brightness  so  unsullied,  that  therein 
A  melancholy  spirit  well  might  win 
Oblivion,  and  melt  out  his  essence  fine 
Into  the  winds:    rain-scented  eglantine 
Gave  temperate  sweets  to  that  well-wooing  sun; 
The  lark  was  lost  in  him;  cold  springs  had  run 
To  warm  their  chilliest  bubbles  in  the  grass; 
Man's  voice  was  on  the  mountains ;  and  the  mass 
Of  nature's  lives  and  wonders  puls'd  tenfold, 
To  feel  this  sun-rise  and  its  glories  old.' — p.  8. 


KEATS'  ENDYMION  139 

Here  Apollo's  fire  produces  a  pyre,  a  silvery  pyre  of 
clouds,  wherein  a  spirit  may  win  oblivion  and  melt  his  es- 
sence fine,  and  scented  eglantine  gives  sweets  to  the  sun, 
and  cold  springs  had  run  into  the  grass,  and  then  the  pulse 
of  the  mass  pulsed  tenfold  to  feel  the  glories  old  of  the 
new-born  day,  &c. 

One  example  more. 

'  Be  still  the  unimaginable  lodge 
For  solitary  thinkings;  such  as  dodge 
Conception  to  the  very  bourne  of  heaven, 
Then  leave  the  naked  brain :   be  still  the  leaven, 
That  spreading  in  this   dull   and   clodded  earth 
Gives  it  a  touch  ethereal — a  new  birth.' — p.  17. 

Lodge,  dodge — heaven,  leaven — earth,  birth;  such,  in 
six  words,  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  six  lines. 

We  come  now  to  the  author's  taste  in  versification. 
He  cannot  indeed  write  a  sentence,  but  perhaps  he  may 
be  able  to  spin  a  line.  Let  us  see.  The  following  are 
specimens  of  his  prosodial  notions  of  our  English  heroic 
metre. 

'  Dear  as  the  temple's  self,  so  does  the  moon, 
The  passion  poesy,  glories  infinite.' — p.  4. 

'  So  plenteously  all  weed-hidden  roots.' — p.  6. 

*  Of  some  strange  history,  potent  to  send.' — p.  i8. 

'Before  the  deep  intoxication.' — p.  27. 

'Her  scarf  into  a  fluttering  pavilion.' — p.  33. 

'  The  stubborn  canvass  for  my  voyage  prepared — .' 

—p.  39. 

'  "  Endymion !    the  cave  is  secreter 
Than  the  isle  of  Delos.     Echo  hence  shall  stir 
No  sighs  but  sigh-warm  kisses,  or  light  noise 
Of  thy  combing  hand,,  the  while  it  travelling  cloys 
And  trembles  through  my  labyrinthine  hair."  ' — p.  48. 


14°  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

By  this  time  our  readers  must  be  pretty  well  satisfied 
as  to  the  meaning  of  his  sentences  and  the  structure  of 
his  lines :  we  now  present  them  with  some  of  the  new 
words  with  which,  in  imitation  of  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt,  he 
adorns  our  language. 

We  are  told  that  '  turtles  passion  their  voices,'  (p.  15)  ; 
that  'an  arbour  was  nested/  (p.  23)  ;  and  a  lady's  locks 
'  gordian'd  up,'  (p.  32)  ;  and  to  supply  the  place  of  the 
nouns  thus  verbalized  Mr.  Keats,  with  great  fecundity, 
spawns  new  ones ;  such  as  '  men-slugs  and  human  ser- 
pentry,'  (p.  41)  ;  the  '  honey-feel  of  bliss,'  (p.  45)  ;  '  wives 
prepare  needments/  (p.  13) — and  so  forth. 

Then  he  has  formed  new  verbs  by  the  process  of  cutting 
oil  their  natural  tails,  the  adverbs,  and  affixing  them  to 
their  foreheads ;  thus,  '  the  wine  out-sparkled,'  (p.  10)  ; 
the  '  multitude  up-followed,'  (p.  11);  and  '  night  up- 
took,'  (p.  29).  'The  wind  up-blows,'  (p.  32)  ;  and  the 
'  hours  are  down-sunken,'  (p.  36.) 

(But  if  he  sinks  some  adverbs  in  the  verbs,  he  compen- 
sates the  language  with  adverbs  and  adjectives  which 
^    A^-^he  separates  from  the  parent  stock.     Thus,  a  lady  '  whis- 
Ir     \A       pers  pantingly   and  close,'  makes   '  hushing  signs,"  and 
'  jj^jji^    steers  her  skiff  into  a  'ripply  cove,'   (p.  23)  ;  a  shower 
^  i/'  falls  '  refreshfully/  (45) ;  and  a  vulture  has  a  '  spreaded 

'  tail,'  (p.  44.) 

But  enough  of  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  simple  neophyte. 
— If  any  one  should  be  bold  enough  to  purchase  this 
'  Poetic  Romance,'  and  so  much  more  patient,  than  our- 
selves, as  to  get  beyond  the  first  book,  and  so  much  more 
fortunate  as  to  find  a  meaning,  we  entreat  him  to  make 
us  acquainted  with  his  success;  we  shall  then  return  to 
the  task  which  we  now  abandon  in  despair,  and  endeavour 
to  make  all  due  amends  to  Mr.  Keats  and  to  our  readers. 
— The  Quarterly  Review. 


Cockney  School  of  Poetry. 

N(ty  IV. 
Of  Keats, 


The  Muses'  son  of  promise,  and  what  feats 
He  yet  may  do,  &c.  ..  -^ 

Cornelius  Webb. 

Of  all  the  manias  of  this  mad  age,  the  most  incurable 
as  well  as  the  most  common,  seems  to  be  no  other  than 
the  Mctromanie.  The  just  celebrity  of  Robert  Burns 
and  Miss  Baillie  has  had  the  melancholy  effect  of  turning 
the  heads  of  we  know  not  how  many  farm-servants  and 
unmarried  ladies;  our  very  footmen  compose  tragedies, 
and  there  is  scarcely  a  superannuated  governess  in  the 
island  that  does  not  leave  a  roll  of  lyrics  behind  her  in 
her  band-box.  To  witness  the  disease  of  any  human 
understanding,  however  feeble,  is  distressing;  but  the 
spectacle  of  an  able  mind  reduced  to  a  state  of  insanity 
is  of  course  ten  times  more  afflicting.  It  is  with  such 
sorrow  as  this  that  we  have  contemplated  the  case  of  Mr 
John  Keats.  This  young  man  appears  to  have  received 
from  nature  talents  of  an  excellent,  perhaps  even  of  a 
superior  order — talents  which,  devoted  to  the  purposes  of 
any  useful  profession,  must  have  rendered  him  a  respec- 
table, if  not  an  eminent  citizen.  His  friends,  we  under- 
stand, destined  him  to  the  career  of  medicine,  and  he  was 
bound  apprentice  some  years  ago  to  a  worthy  apothecary 
in  town.  But  all  has  been  undone  by  a  sudden  attack  of 
the  malady  to  which  we  have  alluded.  Whether  Mr  John 
had  been  sent  home  with  a  diuretic  or  composing  draught 
141 


142  BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE 

to  some  patient  far  gone  in  the  poetical  mania,  we  have 
not  heard.  This  much  is  certain,  that  he  has  caught  the 
infection,  and  that  thoroughly.  For  some  time  we  were  in 
hopes,  that  he  might  get  off  with  a  violent  fit  or  two ;  but 
of  late  the  symptoms  are  terrible.^  The  phrenzy  of  the 
"  Poems.. ".was  bad  enough  in  its  way ;  but  it  did  not  alarm 
us  half  so  seriously  as  the  calm,  settled,  imperturbable, 
drivelling  idiocy  of  "  Endymion."  We  hope,  however, 
that  in  so  young  a  person,  and  with  a  constitution  origi- 
nally so  good,  even  now  the  disease  is  not  utterly  incur- 
able. Time,  firm  treatment,  and  rational  restraint,  do 
much  for  many  apparently  hopeless  invalids;  and  if  Mr 
Keats  should  happen,  at  some  interval  of  reason,  to  cast 
his  eye  upon  our  pages,  he  may  perhaps  be  convinced  of 
the  existence  of  his  malady,  which,  in  such  cases,  is  often 
all  that  is  necessary  to  put  the  patient  in  a  fair  way  of 
being  cured. 

The  readers  of  the  Examiner  newspaper  were  informed, 
some  time  ago,  by  a  solemn  paragraph,  in  Mr  Hunt's  best 
style,  of  the  appearance  of  two  new  stars  of  glorious  mag- 
nitude and  splendour  in  the  poetical  horizon  of  the  land 
of  Cockaigne.  One  of  these  turned  out,  by  and  by,  to  be 
no  other  than  Mr  John  Keats.  This  precocious  adulation 
confirmed  the  wavering  apprentice  in  his  desire  to  quit 
the  gallipots,  and  at  the  same  time  excited  in  his  too 
susceptible  mind  a  fatal  admiration  for  the  character  and 
talents  of  the  most  worthless  and  affected  of  all  the 
versifiers  of  our  time.  One  of  his  first  productions  was 
the  following  sonnet,  "  ivritten  on  the  day  "when  Mr  Leigh 
Hunt  left  prison."  It  will  be  recollected,  that  the  cause 
of  Hunt's  confinement  was  a  series  of  libels  against  his 
sovereign,  and  that  its  fruit  was  the  odious  and  incestuous 
^'  Story  of  Rimini." 


KEATS'   END YM ION  I43 

"  What  though,  for  shewing  truth  to  flattered  state, 
Kind  Hunt  was  shut  in  prison,  yet  has  he. 
In  his  immortal  spirit  been  as  free 
As  the  sky-searching  lark  and  as  elate. 
Minion  of  grandeur !   think  you  he  did  wait  ? 
Think  you  he  nought  but  prison  walls  did  see, 
Till,  so  unwilling,  thou  unturn'dst  the  key?  (", 

Ah,  no!    far  happier,  nobler  was  his  fate!  \' 

In  Spenser's  halls!    he  strayed,  and  bowers  fair,        "Y^qAi/' 
Culling  enchanted  flowers;  and  he  flew  'T^ 

With  daring  Milton!  through  the  fields  of  air; 
To  regions  of  his  own  his  genius  true 
Took  happy  flights.     Who  shall  his  fame  impair 
When  thou  art  dead,  and  all  thy  wretched  crew? 

The  absurdity  of  the  thought  in  this  sonnet  is,  however, 
if  possible,  surpassed  in  another,  "  addressed  to  Haydon  " 
the  painter,  that  clever,  but  most  affected  artist,  who  as 
little  resembles  Raphael  in  genius  as  he  does  in  person, 
notwithstanding  the  foppery  of  having  his  hair  curled  over 
his  shoulders  in  the  old  ItaHan  fashion.  In  this  exquisite 
piece  it  will  be  observed,  that  Mr  Keats  classes  together 
Wordsworth,  Hunt,  and  Haydon,  as  the  three  greatest 
spirits  of  the  age,  and  that  he  alludes  to  himself,  and  soine 
others  of  the  rising  brood  of  Cockneys,  as  likely  to  attain 
hereafter  an  equally  honourable  elevation.  Wordsworth 
and  Hunt!  what  a  juxta-position !  The  purest,  the  lofti- 
est, and,  we  do  not  fear  to  say  it,  the  most  classical  of 
living  English  poets,  joined  together  in  the  same  compli- 
ment with  the  meanest,  the  filthiest,  and  the  most  vulgar  of 
Cockney  poetasters.  No  wonder  that  he  who  could  be 
guilty  of  this  should  class  Haydon  with  Raphael,  and  him- 
self with  Spencer  \sic\ . 

"Great  spirits  now  on  earth  are  sojourning; 
'  He  of  the  cloud,  the  cataract,  the  lake. 

Who  on  Helvellyn's  summit,  wide  awake, 


144  BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE 

Catches  his  freshness  from  Archangel's  wing: 
He  of  the  rose,  the  violet,  the  spring, 
The  social  smile,  the  chain  for  Freedom's  sake: 
And  lo ! — whose  steadfastness  would  never  take 
A  meaner  somid  than  Raphael's  whispering. 
And  other  spirits  there  are  standing  apart 
Upon  the  forehead  of  the  age  to  come; 
These,  these  will  give  the  world  another  heart, 
And  other  pulses.    Hear  ye  not  the  hum 

Of  mighty  workings? 

Listen  awhile  ye  nations,  and  he  dumb. 

The  nations  are  to  listen  and  be  dumb !  and  why,  good 
Johnny  Keats?  because  Leigh  Hunt  is  editor  of  the 
Examiner,  and  Hay  don  has  painted  the  judgment  of 
Solomon,  and  you  and  Cornelius  Webb,  and  a  few  more 
city  sparks,  are  pleased  to  look  upon  yourselves  as  so 
many  future  Shakespeares  and  Miltons !  The  world  has 
really  some  reason  to  look  to  its  foundations !  Here  is  a 
tempestas  in  matula  with  a  vengeance.  At  the  period  when 
these  sonnets  were  published  Mr  Keats  had  no  hesitation 
in  saying  that  he  looked  on  himself  as  "  not  yet  a  glorious 
denizen  of  the  wide  heaven  of  poetry,"  but  he  had  many 
fine  soothing  visions  of  coming  greatness,  and  many  rare 
plans  of  study  to  prepare  him  for  it.  The  following  we 
think  is  very  pretty  raving. 

"  Why  so  sad  a  moan  ? 
Life  is  the  rose's  hope  while  yet  unblown; 
The  reading  of  an  ever-changing  tale; 
The  light  uplifting  of  a  maiden's  veil; 
A  pigeon  tumbling  in  clear  summer  air; 
A  laughing  school-boy,  without  grief  or  care, 
Riding  the  springing  branches  of  an  elm. 

"  O  for  ten  years,  that  I  may  overwhelm 
Myself  in  poesy;  so  I  may  do  the  deed 
That  my  own  soul  has  to  itself  decreed. 


KEATS'  ENDYMION  i45 

Then  will  I  pass  the  countries  that  I  see 

In  long  perspective,  and  continually 

Taste  their  pure  fountains.     First  the  realm  I'll  pass 

Of  Flora,  and  old  Pan:    sleep  in  the  grass, 

Feed  on  apples  red,  and  strawberries, 

And  choose  each  pleasure  that  my  fancy  sees. 

Catch  the  white-handed  nymphs  in  shady  places, 

To  woo  sweet  kisses  from  averted  faces, — 

Play  with  their  fingers,  touch  their  shoulders  white 

Into  a  pretty  shrinking  with  a  bite 

As  hard  as  lips  can  make  it:   till  agreed, 

A  lovely  tale  of  human  life  we'll  read. 

And  one  will  teach  a  tame  dove  how  it  best 

May  fan  the  cool  air  gently  o'er  my  rest; 

Another,  bending  o'er  her  nimble  tread. 

Will  set  a  green  robe  floating  round  her  head, 

And  still  will  dance  with  ever  varied  ease. 

Smiling  upon  the  flowers  and  the  trees : 

Another  will  entice  me  on,  and  on 

Through  almond  blossoms  and  rich  cinnamon; 

Till  in  the  bosom  of  a  leafy  world 

We  rest  in  silence,  like  two  gems  upcurl'd 

In  the  recesses  of  a  pearly  shell." 

Having  cooled  a  little  from  this  "  fine  passion,"  our 
youthful  poet  passes  very  naturally  into  a  long  strain  of 
foaming  abuse  against  a  certain  class  of  English  Poets, 
whom,  with  Pope  at  their  head,  it  is  much  the  fashion  with 
the  ignorant  unsettled  pretenders  of  the  present  time  to 
undervalue.  Begging  these  gentlemens'  pardon,  although 
Pope  was  not  a  poet  of  the  same  high  order  with  some 
who  are  now  living,  yet,  to  deny  his  genius,  is  just  about 
as  absurd  as  to  dispute  that  of  Wordsworth,  or  to  believe 
in  that  of  Hunt.  Above  all  things,  it  is  most  pitiably 
ridiculous  to  hear  men,  of  whom  their  country  will  al- 
ways have  reason  to  be  proud,  reviled  by  uneducated  and 
flimsy  striplings,  who  are  not  capable  of  understanding 
either  their  merits,  or  those  of  any  other  men  of  power — 

n 


146  BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE 

fanciful  dreaming  tea-drinkers,  who,  without  logic  enough 
to  analyze  a  single  idea,  or  imagination  enough  to  form 
one  original  image,  or  learning  enough  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  written  language  of  Englishmen  and  the  spoken 
jargon  of  Cockneys,  presume  to  talk  with  contempt  of 
some  of  the  most  exquisite  spirits  the  world  ever  pro- 
duced, merely  because  they  did  not  happen  to  exert  their 
faculties  in  laborious  affected  descriptions  of  flowers  seen 
in  window-pots,  or  cascades  heard  at  Vauxhall ;  in  short, 
because  they  chose  to  be  wits,  philosophers,  patriots,  and 
poets,  rather  than  to  found  the  Cockney  school  of  versi- 
fication, morality  and  politics,  a  century  before  its  time. 
After  blaspheming  himself  into  a  fury  against  Boileau,  &c. 
Mr  Keats  comforts  himself  and  his  readers  with  a  view 
of  the  present  more  promising  aspect  of  affairs ;  above 
all,  with  the  ripened  glories  of  the  poet  of  Rimini.  Ad- 
dressing the  manes  of  the  departed  chiefs  of  English 
poetry,  he  informs  them,  in  the  following  clear  and 
touching  manner,  of  the  existence  of  "  him  of  the  Rose," 
&c. 

"  From  a  thick  brake, 
Nested  and  quiet  in  a  valley  mild, 
Bubbles  a  pipe;  fine  sounds  are  floating  wild 
About  the  earth.     Happy  are  ye  and  glad." 

From  this  he  diverges  into  a  view  of  "  things  in  gen- 
eral." We  smile  when  we  think  to  ourselves  how  little 
most  of  our  readers  will  understand  of  what  follows. 

"Yet  I  rejoice:    a  myrtle  fairer  than 
E'er  grew  in  Paphos,  from  the  bitter  weeds 
Lifts  its  sweet  head  into  the  air,  and  feeds 
A  silent  space  with  ever  sprouting  green. 
All  tenderest  birds  there  find  a  pleasant  screen, 
Creep  through  the  shade  with  jaunty  fluttering, 
Nibble  the  little  cupped  flowers  and  sing. 


KEATS'  ENDYMION  147 

Then  let  us  clear  away  the  choaking  thorns 

From  round  its  gentle  stem ;  let  the  young  fawns, 

Yeaned  in  after  times,  when  we  are  flown, 

Find  a  fresh  sward  beneath  it,  overgrown 

With  simple  flowers :   let  there  nothing  be 

More  boisterous  than  a  lover's  bended  knee; 

Nought  more  ungentle  than  the  placid  look 

Of  one  who  leans  upon  a  closed  book; 

Nought  more  untranquil  than  the  grassy  slopes 

Between  two  hills.     All  hail  delightful  hopes ! 

As  she  was  wont,  th'  imagination 

Into  most  lovely  labyrinths  will  be  gone, 

And  they  shall  be  accounted  poet  kings 

Who  simply  tell  the  most  heart-easing  things. 

O  may  these  joys  he  ripe  before  I  die. 

Will  not  some  say  that  I  presumptuously 

Have  spoken?   that  from  hastening  disgrace 

'Twere  better  far  to  hide  my  foolish  face? 

That  whining  boyhood  should  with  reverence  bow 

Ere  the  dreadful  thunderbolt  could  reach  ?   How ! 

If  I  do  hide  myself,  it  sure  shall  be 

In  the  very  fane,  the  light  of  poesy." 

From  some  verses  addressed  to  various  amiable  indi- 
viduals of  the  other  sex,  it  appears,  notwithstanding  all 
this  gossamer-work,  that  Johnny's  affections  are  not 
entirely  confined  to  objects  purely  etherial.  Take,  by  way 
of  specimen,  the  following  prurient  and  vulgar  lines,  evi- 
dently meant  for  some  young  lady  east  of  Temple-bar. 

"  Add  too,  the  sweetness 
Of  thy  honied  voice;  the  neatness 
Of  thine  ankle  lightly  turn'd: 
With  those  beauties,  scarce  discern'd, 
Kept  with  such  sweet  privacy, 
That  they  seldom  meet  the  eye 
Of  the  little  loves  that  fly 
Round  about  with  eager  pry. 
Saving  when,  with  freshening  lave, 
Thou  dipp'st  them  in  the  taintless  wave; 


148  BLACKWOOD'S    MAGAZINE 

Like  twin  water  lilies,  bom 
In  the  coolness  of  the  mom 
O,  if  thou  hadst  breathed  then, 
Now  the  Muses  had  been  ten. 
Couldst  thou  wish  for  lineage  higher 
Than  twin  sister  of  Thalia f 
At  last  for  ever,  evermore, 
Will  I  call  the  Graces  four." 

Who  will  dispute  that  our  poet,  to  use  his  own  phrase 
(and  rhyme), 

"  Can  mingle  music  fat  for  the  soft  ear 
Of  Lady  Cytherea." 

So  much  for  the  opening  bud;  now  for  the  expanded 
flower.  It  is  time  to  pass  from  the  juvenile  "  Poems," 
to  the  mature  and  elaborate  "  Endymion,  a  Poetic  Ro- 
mance." The  old  story  of  the  moon  falling  in  love  with 
a  shepherd,  so  prettily  told  by  a  Roman  Classic,  and  so 
exquisitely  enlarged  and  adorned  by  one  of  the  most 
elegant  of  German  poets,  has  been  seized  upon  by  Mr  John 
Keats,  to  be  done  with  as  m.ight  seem  good  unto  the 
sickly  fancy  of  one  who  never  read  a  single  line  either  of 
Ovid  or  of  Wieland.  If  the  quantity,  not  the  quality,  of 
the  verses  dedicated  to  the  story  is  to  be  taken  into  ac- 
count, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Mr  John  Keats  may  now 
claim  Endymion  entirely  to  himself.  To  say  the  truth,  we 
do  not  suppose  either  the  Latin  or  the  German  poet  would 
be  very  anxious  to  dispute  about  the  property  of  the  hero 
of  the  "  Poetic  Romance."  Mr  Keats  has  thoroughly,, 
appropriated  the  character,  if  not  the  name.  His  En- 
dymion is  not  a  Greek  shepherd,  loved  by  a  Grecian 
goddess ;  he  is  merely  a  young  Cockney  rhymester,  dream- 
ing a  phantastic  dream  at  the  full  of  the  moon.  Costume, 
were  it  worth  while  to  notice  such  a  trifle,  is  violated  in 


KEATS'  ENDYMION  149 

every  page  of  this  goodly  octavo.  From  his  prototype 
Hunt,  John  Keats  has  acquired  a  sort  of  vague  idea,  that 
the  Greeks  were  a  most  tasteful  people,  and  that  no 
mythology  can  be  so  finely  adapted  for  the  purposes  of 
poetry  as  theirs.  It  is  amusing  to  see  what  a  hand  the 
two  Cockneys  make  of  this  mythology ;  the  one  confesses 
that  he  never  read  the  Greek  Tragedians,  and  the  other 
knows  Homer  only  from  Chapman;  and  both  of  them 
write  about  Apollo,  Pan,  Nymphs,  Muses,  and  ]\lysteries, 
as  might  be  expected  from  persons  of  their  education. 
We  shall  not,  however,  enlarge  at  present  upon  this  sub- 
ject, as  we  mean  to  dedicate  an  entire  paper  to  the  classical 
attainments  and  attempts  of  the  Cockney  poets.  As  for 
Mr  Keats'  "  Endymion,"  it  has  just  as  much  to  do  with 
'Greece  as  it_has_with^"p^  the  fiercej"   no  man, 

whose   mind   has   ever  been   imbued   with   the   smallest 
knowledge  or  feeling  of  classical  poetry  or  classical  his- 
tory, could  have  stooped  to  profane  and  vulgarise  every 
association  in  the  manner  which  has  been  adopted  by  this  i 
"  son  of  promise."  /Before  giving  any  extracts,  we  must^  ^'''^''' 
inform  our  reatlers,  that  this  romance  is  meant  to  be 
written  in  English  heroic  rhyme.     To  those  who  have 
read  any  of  Hunt's  poems,  this  hint  might  indeed  be  need-  i 
less.  \Mr  Keats  has  adopted  the  loose,  nerveless  versi-   '. 
ficati^Cand  the  Cockney  rhymes  of  the  poet  of  Rimini; 
but  in  fairness  to  that  gentleman,  we  must  add,  that  the 
defects  of  the  system  are  tenfold  more  conspicuous  in 
his  disciple's  work  than  in  his  own.     Mr  Hunt  is  a  small 
poet,  but  he  is  a  clever  man.     Mr  Keats  is  a  still  smaller 
poet,  and  he  is  only  a  boy  of  pretty  abilities,  which  he  has 
done  everything  in  his  power  to  spoil. 

[Quotes   almost   two   hundred   lines   of  Endymion   with  brief 
interpolated  comment.] 


ISO  BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE 

And  now,  good-morrow  to  "  the  Muses'  son  of  Prom- 
ise ; "  as  for  "  the  feats  he  yet  may  do,"  as  we  do  not 
pretend  to  say,  like  himself,  "  Muse  of  my  native  land 
am  I  inspired,'-  we  *hall  adhere  to  the  safe  old  rule  of 
pauca  verba.  We  venture  to  make  one  small  prophecy, 
that  his  bookseller  will  not  a  second  time  venture  £50 
upon  any  thing  he  can  write.  It  is  a  better  and  a  wiser 
thing  to  be  a  starved  apothecary  than  a  starved  poet;  so 
back  to  the  shop  Mr  John,  back  to  "  plasters,  pills,  and 
ointment  boxes,"  &c.  But,  for  Heaven's  sake,  young 
Sangrado,  be  a  little  more  sparing  of  extenuatives  and 
soporifics  in  your  practice  than  you  have  been  in  your 
poetry.  Z. 

— Blackwood's  Magazine. 


Alfred  Lord  Tennyson 

Timbuctoo:  a  Poem,  which  obtained  the  Chancellor's 
Medal  at  the  Cambridge  Commencement,  by  A.  Tenny- 
son,  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
We  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  think,  perhaps  with- 
out any  good  reason,  that  poetry  was  likely  to  perish 
among  us  for  a  considerable  period  after  the  great  gen- 
eration of  poets  which  is  now  passing  away.  The  age 
seems  determined  to  contradict  us,  and  that  in  the  most 
decided  manner,  for  it  has  put  forth  poetry  by  a  young 
man,  and  that  where  we  should  least  expect  it,  namely,  in 
a  prize-poem.  These  productions  have  often  been  in- 
genious and  elegant,  but  we  have  never  before  seen  one 
of  them  which  indicated  really  first-rate  poetical  genius, 
and  which  would  have  done  honour  to  any  man  that  ever 
wrote.  Such,  we  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm,  is  the  little 
work  before  us ;  and  the  examiners  seem  to  have  felt  about 
it  like  ourselves,  for  they  have  assigned  the  prize  to  its 
author,  though  the  measure  in  which  he  writes  was  never 
before  (we  believe)  thus  selected  for  honour.  We  ex- 
tract a  few  lines  to  justify  our  admiration. 

[Quotes  fifty  lines  beginning: — 

"  A  curve  of  whitening,  flashing,  ebbing  light ! 
A  rustling  of  white  wings!    the  bright  descent,  etc.] 

How  many  men  have  lived  for  a  century  who  could 
equal  this  ? — The  Athenceum. 


151 


Poems  by  Alfred  Tennyson,    pp.  163.    London.     i2mo. 

1833. 

This  is,  as  some  of  his  marginal  notes  intimate,  Mr. 
Tennyson's  second  appearance.  By  some  strange  chance 
we  have  never  seen  his  first  pubHcation,  which,  if  it  at  all 
resembles  its  younge[r]  brother,  must  be  by  this  time  so 
popular  that  any  notice  of  it  on  our  part  would  seem  idle 
and  presumptuous;  but  we  gladly  seize  this  opportunity 
of  repairing  an  unintentional  neglect,  and  of  introducing 
to  the  admiration  of  our  more  sequestered  readers  a  new 
prodigy  of  genius — another  and  a  brighter  star  of  that 
galaxy  or  milky  way  of  poetry  of  which  the  lamented 
Keats  was  the  harbinger ;  and  let  us  take  this  occasion  to 
sing  our  palinode  on  the  subject  of  '  Endymion.'  We 
certainly  did  not*  discover  in  that  poem  the  same  degree 
of  merit  that  its  more  clear-sighted  and  prophetic  admirers 
did.  We  did  not  foresee  the  unbounded  popularity  which 
has  carried  it  through  we  know  not  how  many  editions; 
which  has  placed  it  on  every  table ;  and,  what  is  still  more 
unequivocal,  familiarized  it  in  every  mouth.  All  this 
splendour  of  fame,  however,  though  we  had  not  the 
sagacity  to  anticipate,  we  have  the  candour  to  acknowl- 
edge :  and  we  request  that  the  publisher  of  the  new  and 
beautiful  edition  of  Keats's  works  now  in  the  press,  with 
graphic  illustrations  by  Calcott  and  Turner,  will  do  us 
the  favour  and  the  justice  to  notice  our  conversion  in  his 
prolegomena. 

Warned  by  our  former  mishap,  wiser  by  experience, 
and  improved,  as  we  hope,  in  taste,  we  have  to  offer  Mr. 
Tennyson  our  tribute  of  unmingled*^pprobation,  and  it  is 

*  See  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  XIX,  p.  204. 

152 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  153 

very  agreeable  to  us,  as  well  as  to  our  readers,  that  our 
present  task  will  be  little  more  than  the  selection,  for  their 
delight,  of  a  few  specimens  of  Mr.  Tennyson's  singular 
genius,  and  the  venturing  to  point  out,  now  and  then,  the 
peculiar  brilliancy  of  some  of  the  gems  that  irradiate  his 
poetical  crown. 

A  prefatory  sonnet  opens  to  the  reader  the  aspirations 
of  the  young  author,  in  which,  after  the  manner  of  sundry 
poets,  ancient  and  modern,  he  expresses  his  own  peculiar 
character,  by  wishing  himself  to  be  something  that  he 
is  not.  The  amorous  Catullus  aspired  to  be  a  sparrow; 
the  tuneful  and  convivial  Anacreon  (for  we  totally  reject 
the  supposition  that  attributes  the  'Etds  Ibp-t]  xalfj  yevoifivjv 
to  Alcseus)  wished  to  be  a  lyre  and  a  great  drinking  cup ; 
a  crowd  of  more  modern  sentimentalists  have  desired  to 
approach  their  mistresses  as  flowers,  tunicks,  sandals, 
birds,  breezes,  and  butterflies; — all  poor  conceits  of  nar- 
row-minded poetasters !  Mr.  Tennyson  (though  he,  too, 
would,  as  far  as  his  true  love  is  concerned,  not  unwillingly 
'  be  an  earring,'  '  a  girdle,'  and  '  a  necklace,'  p.  45)  in  the 
more  serious  and  solemn  exordium  of  his  works  ambitions 
a  bolder  metamorphosis — he  wishes  to  be — a  river! 

SONNET. 

'  Mine  be  the  strength  of  spirit  fierce  and  free, 
Like  some  broad  river  rushing  down  alone '- 

rivers  that  travel  in  company  are  too  common  for  his 
taste — 

'  With  the  self-same  impulse  wherewith  he  was  thrown ' — 
a  beautiful  and  harmonious  line — 

'  From  his  loud  fount  upon  the  echoing  lea : — 
Which,  with  increasing  might,  doth  forward  Hee' — 


154  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

Every  word  of  this  line  is  valuable — the  natural  prog- 
ress of  human  ambition  is  here  strongly  characterized — 
two  lines  ago  he  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the  self- 
same impulse — ^but  now  he  must  have  increasing  might; 
and  indeed  he  would  require  all  his  might  to  accomplish 
his  object  of  fleeing  forward,  that  is,  going  backwards 
and  forwards  at  the  same  time.  Perhaps  he  uses  the 
word  Hee  for  How;  which  latter  he  could  not  well  employ 
in  this  place,  it  being,  as  we  shall  see,  essentially  necessary 
to  rhyme  to  Mexico  towards  the  end  of  the  sonnet — 
as  an  equivalent  to  flow  he  has,  therefore,  with  great  taste 
and  ingenuity,  hit  on  the  combination  of  forward  Uee — 

*  doth  forward  flee 


By  town,  and  tower,  and  hill,  and  cape,  and  isle. 
And  in  the  middle  of  the  green  salt  sea 
Keeps  his  blue  waters  fresh  for  many  a  mile.' 

A  noble  wish,  beautifully  expressed,  that  he  may  not 
be  confounded  with  the  deluge  of  ordinary  poets,  but, 
amidst  their  discoloured  and  briny  ocean,  still  preserve 
his  own  bright  tints  and  sweet  savor.  He  may  be  at  ease 
on  this  point — he  never  can  be  mistaken  for  any  one  else. 
We  have  but  too  late  become  acquainted  with  him,  yet  we 
assure  ourselves  that  if  a  thousand  anonymous  specimens 
were  presented  to  us,  we  should  unerringly  distinguish 
his  by  the  total  absence  of  any  particle  of  salt.  But  again, 
his  thoughts  take  another  turn,  and  he  reverts  to  the 
insatiability  of  human  ambition : — we  have  seen  him  just 
now  content  to  be  a  river,  but  as  he  flees  forward,  his  de- 
sires expand  into  sublimity,  and  he  wishes  to  become  the 
great  Gulfstream  of  the  Atlantic. 

'  Mine  be  the  power  which  ever  to  its  sway 
Will  win  the  wise  at  once — 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  155 

We,  for  once,  are  wise,  and  he  has  won  us — 

'Will  win  the  wise  at  once;  and  by  degrees 
May  into  uncongenial  spirits  flow, 
Even  as  the  great  gulphstream  of  Florida 
Floats  far  away  into  the  Northern  seas 
The  lavish  growths  of  southern  Mexico/' — p.  i. 

And  so  concludes  the  sonnet. 

The  next  piece  is  a  kind  of  testamentary  paper,  ad- 
dressed '  To ,'  a  friend,  we  presume,  containing  his 

wishes  as  to  what  his  friend  should  do  for  him  when  he 
(the  poet)  shall  be  dead — not,  as  we  shall  see,  that  he 
quite  thinks  that  such  a  poet  can  die  outright. 

*  Shake  hands,  my  friend,  across  the  brink 

Of  that  deep  grave  to  which  I  go. 

Shake  hands  once  more;  I  cannot  sink 

So  far — far  down,  but  I  shall  know 

Thy  voice,  and  answer  from  below!* 

Horace  said  *  non  omnis  moriar,'  meaning  that  his 
fame  should  survive — Mr.  Tennyson  is  still  more  viva- 
cious, '  non  omnino  moriar,' — *  I  will  not  die  at  all ;  my 
body  shall  be  as  immortal  as  my  verse,  and  however  low 
I  may  go,  I  warrant  you  I  shall  keep  all  my  wits  about 
me, — therefore ' 

'  When,  in  the  darkness  over  me. 

The  four-handed  mole  shall  scrape, 
Plant  thou  no  dusky  cypress  tree, 

Nor  wreath  thy  cap  with  doleful  crape, 
But  pledge  me  in  the  flowing  grape.' 

Observe  how  all  ages  become  present  to  the  mind  of  a 
great  poet;  and  admire  how  naturally  he  combines  the 
funeral  cypress  of  classical  antiquity  with  the  crape  hat- 
band of  the  modern  undertaker. 


156  THE  QUARTERLY  REVIEW* 

He  proceeds: — 

*  And  when  the  sappy  field  and  wood 

Grow  green  beneath  the  showery  gray, 
And  rugged  barks  begin  to  bud, 
And  through  damp  holts,  newflushed  with  May, 
Ring  sudden  laughters  of  the  jay!' 

Laughter,  the  philosophers  tell  us,  is  a  peculiar  attribute 
of  man — but  as  Shakespeare  found  '  tongues  in  trees  and 
sermons  in  stones,'  this  true  poet  endows  all  nature  not 
merely  with  human  sensibilities  but  with  human  func- 
tions— the  jay  laughs,  and  we  find,  indeed,  a  little  further 
on,  that  the  woodpecker  laughs  also ;  but  to  mark  the  dis- 
tinction between  their  merriment  and  that  of  men,  both 
jays  and  woodpeckers  laugh  upon  melancholy  occasions. 
We  are  glad,  moreover,  to  observe,  that  Mr.  Tennyson  is 
prepared  for,  and  therefore  will  not  be  disturbed  by, 
human  laughter,  if  any  silly  reader  should  catch  the  in- 
fection from  the  woodpeckers  and  the  jays. 

'  Then  let  wise  Nature  work  her  will, 
And  on  my  clay  her  darnels  grow. 
Come  only  when  the  days  are  still, 
And  at  my  head-stone  whisper  low. 
And  tell  me' — 

Now,  what  would  an  ordinary  bard  wish  to  be  told 
under  such  circumstances? — why,  perhaps,  how  his 
sweetheart  was,  or  his  child,  or  his  family,  or  how  the 
Reform  Bill  worked,  or  whether  the  last  edition  of  his 
poems  had  been  sold — papcs!  our  genuine  poet's  first 
wish  is 

'  And  tell  me — if  the  woodbines  blowf 

When,  indeed,  he  shall  have  been  thus  satisfied  as  to 
the  woodbines,  (of  the  blowing  of  which  in  their  due  sea- 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  157 

son  he  may,  we  think,  feel  pretty  secure,)  he  turns  a 
passing  thought  to  his  friend — and  another  to  his 
mother — 

'If  thou  art  blest,  my  mother's  smile 
Undimmed ' — 

but  such  inquiries,  short  as  they  are,  seem  too  common- 
place, and  he  immediately  glides  back  into  his  curiosity  as 
to  the  state  of  the  weather  and  the  forwardness  of  the 
spring — 

'If  thou  art  blessed — my  mother's  smile 
Undimmed — if  bees  are  on  the  wing?' 

No,  we  believe  the  whole  circle  of  poetry  does  not  fur- 
nish such  another  instance  of  enthusiasm  for  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  the  vernal  season ! — The  sorrows  of  a 
bereaved  mother  rank  after  the  blossoms  of  the  zvoodhine, 
and  just  before  the  hummings  of  the  hce;  and  this  is  all 
that  he  has  any  curiosity  about ;  for  he  proceeds : — 

*  Then  cease,  my  friend,  a  little  while 
That  I  may ' — 

*  send  my  love  to  my  mother,'  or  '  give  you  some  hints 
about  bees,  which  I  have  picked  up  from  Aristsus,  in  the 
Elysian  Fields,'  or  '  tell  you  how  I  am  situated  as  to  my 
own  personal  comforts  in  the  world  below  '  ? — oh  no — 

'  That  I  may — hear  the  throstle  sing 
His  bridal  song— the  boast  of  spring. 

Sweet  as  the  noise,  in  parched  plains. 
Of  bubbling  wells  that  fret  the  stones, 

{If  any  sense  in  me  remains) 
Thy  words  will  be — thy  cheerful  tones 
As  welcome  to — my  crumbling  bones!' — p.  4. 


158  THE  QUARTERLY  REVIEW 

'//  mty  sense  in  me  remains!' — This  doubt  is  incon- 
sistent with  the  opening  stanza  of  the  piece,  and,  in  fact, 
too  modest;  we  take  upon  ourselves  to  re-assure  Mr. 
Tennyson,  that,  even  after  he  shall  be  dead  and  buried,  as 
much  'sense'  will  still  remain  as  he  has  now  the  good 
fortune  to  possess. 

We  have  quoted  these  first  two  poems  in  extenso,  to 
obviate  any  suspicion  of  our  having  made  a  partial  or  de- 
lusive selection.  We  cannot  afiford  space — we  wish  we 
could — for  an  equally  minute  examination  of  the  rest  of 
the  volume,  but  we  shall  make  a  few  extracts  to  show — 
what  we  solemnly  affirm — that  every  page  teems  with 
beauties  hardly  less  surprising. 

The  Lady  of  Shalott  is  a  poem  in  four  parts,  the  story 
of  which  we  decline  to  maim  by  such  an  analysis  as  we 
could  give,  but  it  opens  thus — 

'  On  either  side  the  river  lie 
Long  fields  of  barley  and  of  rye. 
That  clothe  the  wold  and  meet  the  sky — 
And  through  the  field  the  road  runs  hy.' 

The  Lady  of  Shalott  was,  it  seems,  a  spinster  who  had, 
under  some  unnamed  penalty,  a  certain  web  to  weave. 

'Underneath  the  bearded  barley, 
The  reaper,  reaping  late  and  early, 
Hears  her  ever  chanting  cheerly, 
Like  an  angel  singing  clearly  .  .  . 

'  No  time  has  she  for  sport  or  play, 
A  charmed  web  she  weaves  alway; 
A  curse  is  on  her  if  she  stay 
Her  weaving  either  night  or  day  .  .  ^ 

*  She  knows  not ' — 

Poor  lady,  nor  we  either — 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  i59 

*  She  knows  not  what  that  curse  may  be, 
Therefore  she  weaveth  steadily ; 
Therefore  no  other  care  has  she 
The  Lady  of  Shalott.' 

A  knight,  however,  happens  to  ride  past  her  window, 
coming 

'  from  Camelot  ;* 

From  the  bank,  and  from  the  river, 
He  flashed  into  the  crystal  mirror — 
"Tirra  lirra,  tirra  lirra,"  (lirrarf) 

Sang  Sir  Launcelot.' — p.  15. 

The  lady  stepped  to  the  window  to  look  at  the  stranger, 
and  forgot  for  an  instant  her  web : — the  curse  fell  on  her, 
and  she  died ;  why,  how,  and  wherefore,  the  following 
stanzas  will  clearly  and  pathetically  explain : — 

'  A  long  drawn  carol,  mournful,  holy, 
She  chanted  loudly,  chanted  lowly, 
Till  her  eyes  were  darkened  wholly, 
And  her  smooth  face  sharpened  slowly. 

Turned  to  towered  Camelot. 
For  ere  she  reached  upon  the  tide 
The  first  house  on  the  water  side. 
Singing  in  her  song  she  died, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott! 
Knight  and  burgher,  lord  and  dame, 
To  the  planked  wharfage  came; 
Below  the  stern  they  read  her  name, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott.' — p.  19. 

We  pass  by  two — what  shall  we  call  them? — tales,  or        \ 
odes,  or  sketches,  entitled  *  Mariana  in  the  South  '  and 

*  The    same    Camelot,    in    Somersetshire,    we    presume,    which    is 
alluded  to  by  Kent  in  '  King  Lear  * — 

'  Goose !    if  I  had  thee  upon   Sarum  plain, 
I'd  drive  thee  cackling  home  to  Camelot.' 


i6o  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

'  Eleanore,'  of  which  we  fear  we  could  make  no  intelli- 
gible extract,  so  curiously  are  they  run  together  into  one 
dreamy  tissue — to  a  little  novel  in  rhyme,  called  *  The 
Miller's  Daughter.'  Millers'  daughters,  poor  things,  have 
been  so  generally  betrayed  by  their  sweethearts,  that  it  is 
refreshing  to  find  that  Mr.  Tennyson  has  united  himself 
to  his  miller's  daughter  in  lawful  wedlock,  and  the  poem 
is  a  history  of  his  courtship  and  wedding.  He  begins 
with  a  sketch  of  his  own  birth,  parentage,  and  personal 
appearance — 

*  My  father's  mansion,  mounted  high. 

Looked  down  upon  the  village-spire; 
I  was  a  long  and  listless  boy, 
And  son  and  heir  unto  the  Squire.* 

But  the  son  and  heir  of  Squire  Tennyson  often  de- 
scended from  the  '  mansion  mounted  high ;'  and 

'  I  met  in  all  the  close  green  ways, 

While  walking  with  my  line  and   rod,' 

A  metonymy  for  '  rod  and  line  ' — 

*  The  wealthy  miller's  mealy  face. 
Like  the  moon  in  an  ivytod. 

'He  looked  so  jolly  and  so  good — 
While  fishing  in  the  mill-dam  water, 
I  laughed  to  see  him  as  he  stood, 
And  dreamt  not  of  the  miller's  daughter.' — p.  ^2- 

He,  however,  soon  saw,  and,  need  we  add,  loved  the 
miller's  daughter,  whose  countenance,  we  presume,  bore 
no  great  resemblance  either  to  the  '  mealy  face '  of  the 
miller,  or  '  the  moon  in  an  ivy-tod ;'  and  we  think  our 
readers  will  be  delighted  at  the  way  in  which  the  im- 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  i6i 

passioned  husband  relates  to  his  wife  how  his  fancy 
mingled  enthusiasm  for  rural  sights  and  sounds,  with  a 
prospect  of  the  less  romantic  scene  of  her  father's  occupa- 
tion. 

'  How  dear  to  me  in  youth,  my  love, 
Was  everything  about  the  mill ; 
The  black,  the  silent  pool  above. 
The  pool  beneath  that  ne'er  stood  still; 

The  meal-sacks  on  the  whitened  floor, 
The  dark  round  of  the  dripping  wheel, 

The  very  air  about  the  door, 
Made  misty  with  the  Aoating  meal!' — p.  36. 

The  accumulation  of  tender  images  in  the  following 
lines  appears  not  less  wonderful : — 

'  Remember  you  that  pleasant  day 
When,  after  roving  in  the  woods, 
('Twas  April  then)  I  came  and  lay 
Beneath  those  gummy  chestnut-buds? 

'  A  water-rat  from  off  the  bank 

Plunged  in  the  stream.     With  idle  care, 
Downlooking  through  the  sedges  rank, 
I  saw  your  troubled  image  there, 

'  If  you  remember,  you  had  set, 

Upon  the  narrow  casement-edge, 
A  long  green  box  of  mignonette 
And  you  were  leaning  on  the  ledge.' 

The  poet's  truth  to  Nature  in  his  '  gummy '  chestnut- 
buds,  and  to  Art  in  the  '  long  green  box  '  of  mignonette — 
and  that  masterful  touch  of  likening  the  first  intrusion  of 
love  into  the  virgin  bosom  of  the  Miller's  daughter  to 
the  plunging  of  a  water-rat  into  the  mill-dam — these  are 
beauties  which,  we  do  not  fear  to  say,  equal  anything 
even  in  Keats. 
14 


i62  THE  QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

We  pass  by  several  songs,  sonnets,  and  small  pieces, 
all  of  singular  merit,  to  arrive  at  a  class,  we  may  call 
them,  of  three  poems  derived  from  mythological  sources — 
CEnone,  the  Hesperides,  and  the  Lotos-eaters.  But 
though  the  subjects  are  derived  from  classical  antiquity, 
Mr.  Tennyson  treats  them  with  so  much  originality  that 
he  makes  them  exclusively  his  own.     CEnone,  deserted  by 

*  Beautiful   Paris,   evilhearted   Paris,' 

sings  a  kind  of  dying  soliloquy  addressed  to  Mount  Ida, 
in  a  formula  which  is  sixteen  times  repeated  in  this  short 
poem. 

'  Dear  mother  Ida,  hearken  ere  I  die.' 

She  tells  her  '  dear  mother  Ida,'  that  when  evilhearted 
Paris  was  about  to  judge  between  the  three  goddesses,  he 
hid  her  (CEnone)  behind  a  rock,  whence  she  had  a  full 
view  of  the  naked  beauties  of  the  rivals,  which  broke 
her  heart. 

'Dear  mother  Ida,  hearken  ere  I  die: — 
It  was  the  deep  mid  noon :    one  silvery  cloud 
Had  lost  his  way  among  the  pined  hills : 
They  came — all  three — the  Olympian  goddesses. 
Naked  they  came — 
****** 

How  beautiful  they  were !   too  beautiful 
To  look  upon;  but  Paris  was  to  me 
More  lovelier  than  all  the  world  beside. 
O  mother  Ida,  hearken  ere  I  die.' — p.  56. 

In  the  place  where  we  have  indicated  a  pause,  follows 
a  description,  long,  rich,  and  luscious — Of  the  three  naked 
goddesses  ?  Fye  for  shame — no — of  the  '  lily  flower  violet- 
eyed,'  and  the  '  singing  pine,'  and  the  '  overwandering  ivy 
and  vine,'  and  '  festoons,'  and  '  gnarled  boughs,'  and  '  tree 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  163 

tops,'  and  '  berries,'  and  '  flowers,'  and  all  the  inanimate 
beauties  of  the  scene.  It  would  be  unjust  to  the  ingenuus 
pitdor  of  the  author  not  to  observe  the  art  with  which  he 
has  veiled  this  ticklish  interview  behind  such  luxuriant 
trellis-work,  and  it  is  obvious  that  it  is  for  our  special 
sakes  he  has  entered  into  these  local  details,  because  if 
there  was  one  thing  which  '  mother  Ida '  knew  better 
than  another,  it  must  have  been  her  own  bushes  an4 
brakes.  We  then  have  in  detail  the  tempting  speeches  of, 
first— 

'The  imperial  Olympian, 

With  arched  eyebrow  smiling  sovranly, 

Full-eyed  Here;' 

secondly  of  Pallas — 

'  Her  clear  and  bared  limbs 
O'er-thwarted  with  the  brazen-headed  spear,' 

and  thirdly — 

'  Idalian  Aphrodite  ocean-born, 
Fresh  as  the  foam,  new-bathed  in  Paphian  wells — ' 

for  one  dip,  or  even  three  dips  in  one  well,  would  not  have 
been  enough  on  such  an  occasion — and  her  succinct  and 
prevailing  promise  of — 

'The  fairest  and  most  loving  wife  in  Greece;' — 

Upon  evil-hearted  Paris's  catching  at  which  prize,  the 
tender  and  chaste  CEnone  exclaims  her  indignation,  that 
she  herself  should  not  be  considered  fair  enough,  since 
only  yesterday  her  charms  had  struck  awe  into — 

'  A  wild  and  wanton  pard, 
Eyed  like  the  evening-star,  with  playful  tail — ' 


N. 


164  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

and  proceeds  in  this  anti-Martineau  rapture — 

'Most  loving  is  she?' 
'  Ah  me !    my  mountain  shepherd,  that  my  arms 
Were  wound  about  thee,  and  my  hot  lips  prest 
Close — close  to  thine  in  that  quick-falling  dew 
Of  fruitful  kisses  .  .  . 
Dear  mother  Ida !    hearken  ere  I  die ! — p.  62. 

After  such  reiterated  assurances  that  she  was  about  to 
die  on  the  spot,  it  appears  that  CEnone  thought  better  of 
it,  and  the  poem  concludes  with  her  taking  the  wiser 
course  of  going  to  town  to  consult  her  swain's  sister, 
Cassandra — whose  advice,  we  presume,  prevailed  upon 
her  to  live,  as  we  can,  from  other  sources,  assure  our 
readers  she  did  to  a  good  old  age. 

In  the  '  Hesperides '  our  author,  with  great  judgment, 
rejects  the  common  fable,  which  attributes  to  Hercules  the 
slaying  of  the  dragon  and  the  plunder  of  the  golden  fruit. 
Nay,  he  supposes  them  to  have  existed  to  a  comparatively 
recent  period — namely,  the  voyage  of  Hanno,  on  the 
coarse  canvas  of  whose  log-book  Mr.  Tennyson  has 
judiciously  embroidered  the  Hesperian  romance.  The 
poem  opens  with  a  geographical  description  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, which  must  be  very  clear  and  satisfactory  to 
the  English  reader;  indeed,  it  leaves  far  behind  in  accu- 
racy of  topography  and  melody  of  rhythm  the  heroics  of 
Dionysius  Periegefes. 

'  The  north  wind  fall'n,  in  the  new-starred  night.* 

Here  we  must  pause  to  observe  a  new  species  of 
metahole  with  which  Mr.  Tennyson  has  enriched  our  lan- 
guage. He  suppresses  the  E  in  fallen,  where  it  is  usually 
written  and  where  it  must  be  pronounced,  and  transfers 
it  to  the  word  neiv-starred,  where  it  would  not  be  pro- 


TENNYSON'S   POEMS  165 

nounced  if  he  did  not  take  due  care  to  superfix  a  grave 
accent.  This  use  of  the  grave  accent  is,  as  our  readers 
may  have  already  perceived,  so  habitual  w\\h.  Mr.  Tenny- 
son, and  is  so  obvious  an  improvement,  that  we  really 
wonder  how  the  language  has  hitherto  done  without  it. 
We  are  tempted  to  suggest,  that  if  analogy  to  the  accented 
languages  is  to  be  thought  of,  it  is  rather  the  acute  (') 
than  the  grave  (^)  which  should  be  employed  on  such 
occasions ;  but  we  speak  with  profound  diffidence ;  and  as 
Mr,  Tennyson  is  the  inventor  of  the  system,  we  shall  bow 
with  respect  to  whatever  his  final  determination  may  be. 

'  The  north  wind  fall'n,  in  the  new-starred  night 
Zidonian  Hanno,  voyaging  beyond 
The  hoary  promontory  of  Soloe, 
Past  Thymiaterion  in  calmed  bays.' 

We  must  here  note  specially  the  musical  flow  of  this  last 
line,  which  is  the  more  creditable  to  Mr.  Tennyson,  be- 
cause it  was  before  the  tuneless  names  of  this  very  neigh- 
bourhood that  the  learned  continuator  of  Dionysius  re- 
treated in  despair — 

eiruvvfiiag  vvv  IXAaxEv  aXTiag 

AWioTTuv  yaiv,  6vc<l)U}Vitq  sd'  emrjpnvq 

Macaig  uveku  raaS"  iyu  ovk  ayopevaoju'  anaaaq. 

but  Mr.  Tennyson  is  bolder  and  happier — 

'  Past  Thymiaterion  in  calmed  bays, 
Between  the  southern  and  the  western  Horn, 
Heard  neither ' — 

We  pause  for  a  moment  to  consider  what  a  sea-captain 
might  have  expected  to  hear,  by  night,  in  the  Atlantic 
ocean — he  heard 

— 'neither  the   warbling  of  the  nightingale 
Nor  melody  o'  the  Libyan  lotusflute,' 


1 66  THE  QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

but  he  did  hear  the  three  daughters  of  Hesper  singing  the 
following  song: — 

'The  golden  apple,  the  golden  apple,  the  hallowed  fruit, 
Guard  it  well,  guard  it  warily. 
Singing  airily. 

Standing  about  the  charmed  root, 
Round  about  all  is  mute ' — 

mute,  though  they  sung  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  some 
leagues  out  at  sea — 

'all  is  mute 


As  the  snow-field  on  mountain  peaks. 
As  the  sand-field  at  the  mountain  foot. 
Crocodiles  in  briny  creeks 
Sleep,  and  stir  not :   all  is  mute.' 

How  admirably  do  these  lines  describe  the  peculiarities  of 
this  charmed  neighbourhood — fields  of  snow,  so  talkative 
when  they  happen  to  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  are 
quite  out  of  breath  when  they  get  to  the  top,  and  the 
sand,  so  noisy  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  is  dumb  at  its  foot. 
The  very  crocodiles,  too,  are  mute — not  dumb  but  mute. 
The  *  red-combed  dragon  curl'd  '  is  next  introduced — 

'  Look  to  him,  father,  lest  he  wink,  and  the  golden  apple  be 

stolen  away, 
For   his   ancient   heart   is   drunk    with   overwatchings   night 

and  day. 
Sing  away,  sing  aloud  evermore,  in  the  wind,  without  stop.' 

The  north  wind,  it  appears,  has  by  this  time  awaked 
again — 

'  Lest  his  scaled  eyelid  drop, 
For  he  is  older  than  the  world ' — 

older  than  the  hills,  besides  not  rhyming  to  '  curl'd,'  would 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  167 

hardly  have  been  a  sufficiently  venerable  phrase  for  this 
most  harmonious  of  lyrics.     It  proceeds — 

'  If  ye  sing  not,  if  ye  make  false  measure, 
We  shall  lose  eternal  pleasure, 
Worth  eternal  want  of  rest. 
Laugh  not  loudly:    watch  the  treasure 
Of  the  wisdom  of  the  west. 
In  a  corner  wisdom  whispers.    Five  and  three 
{Let  it  not  be  preached  abroad)  make  an  awful  mystery.' 

— p.  102. 

This  recipe  for  keeping  a  secret,  by  singing  it  so  loud  as 
to  be  heard  for  miles,  is  almost  the  only  point,  in  all  Mr. 
Tennyson's  poems,  in  which  we  can  trace  the  remotest  ap- 
proach to  anything  like  what  other  men  have  written,  but 
it  certainly  does  remind  us  of  the  '  chorus  of  conspirators  ' 
in  the  Rovers. 

Hanno,  however,  who  understood  no  language  but 
Punic — (the  Hesperides  sang,  we  presume,  either  in 
Greek  or  in  English) — appears  to  have  kept  on  his  way 
without  taking  any  notice  of  the  song,  for  the  poem  con- 
cludes,— 

'  The  apple  of  gold  hangs  over  the  sea. 
Five  links,  a  gold  chain,  are  we, 
Hesper,  the  Dragon,  and  sisters  three; 
Daughters  three, 
Bound  about 
All  around  about 

The  gnarled  bole  of  the  charmed  tree, 
The  golden  apple,  the  golden  apple,  the  hallowed  fruit, 
Guard  it  well,  guard  it  warily. 
Watch  it  warily, 
Singing  airily 
Standing  about  the  charmed  root.' — p.  107. 

We  hardly  think  that,  if  Hanno  had  translated  it  into 
PuniCj  the  song  would  have  been  more  intelligible. 


1 68  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

The  '  Lotuseaters  ' — a  kind  of  classical  opium-eaters — 
are  Ulysses  and  his  crew.  They  land  on  the  '  charmed 
island,'  and  '  eat  of  the  charmed  root,'  and  then  they 
sing— 

*  Long  enough  the  winedark  wave  our  weary  bark  did  carry. 
This  is  lovelier  and  sweeter, 
Men  of  Ithaca,  this  is  meeter. 
In  the  hollow  rosy  vale  to  tarry, 
Like  a  dreamy  Lotuseater — a  delicious  Lotuseater! 
We  will  eat  the  Lotus,  sweet 
As  the  yellow  honeycomb  ; 
In  the  valley  some,  and  some 
On  the  ancient  heights  divine. 
And  no  more  roam, 
On  the  loud  hoar  foam. 
To  the  melancholy  home, 
At  the  limits  of  the  brine, 
The  little  isle  of  Ithaca,  beneath  the  day's  decline.'— p.  ii6. 

Our  readers  will,  we  think,  agree  that  this  is  admirably 
characteristic,  and  that  the  singers  of  this  song  must  have 
made  pretty  free  with  the  intoxicating  fruit.  How  they 
got  home  you  must  read  in  Homer: — Mr.  Tennyson — 
himself,  we  presume,  a  dreamy  lotus-eater,  a  delicious 
lotus-eater — leaves  them  in  full  song. 

Next  comes  another  class  of  poems, — ^Visions.  The 
first  is  the  '  Palace  of  Art,'  or  a  fine  house,  in  which  the 
poet  dreams  that  he  sees  a  very  fine  collection  of  well- 
known  pictures.  An  ordinary  versifier  would,  no  doubt, 
have  followed  the  old  routine,  and  dully  described  himself 
as  walking  into  the  Louvre,  or  Buckingham  Palace,  and 
there  seeing  certain  masterpieces  of  painting : — a  true  poet 
dreams  it  We  have  not  room  to  hang  many  of  these 
chefs-d'oeuvre,  but  for  a  few  we  must  find  space. — 'The 
Madonna ' — 


TENNYSON'S   POEMS  169 

'  The  maid  mother  by  a  crucifix, 
In  yellow  pastures  sunny  warm, 
Beneath  branch  work  of  costly  sardonyx 
Sat  smiling — babe  in  arm.' — p.  72. 

The  use  of  the  latter,  apparently,  colloquial  phrase  is  a 
deep  stroke  of  art.  The  form  of  expression  is  always 
used  to  express  an  habitual  and  characteristic  action,  A 
knight  is  described  '  lance  in  rest ' — a  dragoon,  '  sword  in 
hand ' — so,  as  the  idea  of  the  Virgin  is  inseparably  con- 
nected with  her  child,  Mr.  Tennyson  reverently  describes 
her  conventional  position — '  babe  in  arm' 

His  gallery  of  illustrious  portraits  is  thus  admirably 
arranged  : — The  Madonna — Ganymede — St.  Cecilia — Eu- 
ropa — Deep-haired  Milton — Shakspeare — Grim  Dante — 
Michael  Angelo — Luther — Lord  Bacon — Cervantes — Cal- 
deron — King  David — '  the  Halicarnassean  '  {quaere, 
which  of  them?) — Alfred,  (not  Alfred  Tennyson,  though 
no  doubt  in  any  other  man's  gallery  he  would  have  a 
place)  and  finally — 

'  Isaiah,  with  fierce  Ezekiel, 

Swarth  Moses  by  the  Coptic  sea, 
Plato,  Petrarca,  Livy,  and  Raphael, 
And  eastern  Confutzee !' 

We  can  hardly  suspect  the  very  original  mind  of  Mr. 
Tennyson  to  have  harboured  any  recollections  of  that 
celebrated  Doric  idyll,  '  The  groves  of  Blarney,'  but  cer- 
tainly there  is  a  strong  likeness  between  Mr.  Tennyson's 
list  of  pictures  and  the  Blarney  collection  of  statutes — 

*  Statues  growing  that  noble  place  in, 
All  heathen  goddesses  most  rare, 
Homer,   Plutarch,  and   Nebuchadnezzar, 
All  standing  naked  in  the  open  air!' 


I70  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

In  this  poem  we  first  observed  a  stroke  of  art  (repeated 
afterwards)  which  we  think  very  ingenious.  No  one  who 
has  ever  written  verse  but  must  have  felt  the  pain  of 
erasing  some  happy  Une,  some  striking  stanza,  which, 
however  excellent  in  itself,  did  not  exactly  suit  the  place 
for  which  it  was  destined.  How  curiously  does  an 
author  mould  and  remould  the  plastic  verse  in  order  to 
fit  in  the  favourite  thought;  and  when  he  finds  that  he 
cannot  introduce  it,  as  Corporal  Trim  says,  any  how,  with 
what  reluctance  does  he  at  last  reject  the  intractable,  but 
still  cherished  offspring  of  his  brain  !  Mr.  Tennyson  man- 
ages this  delicate  matter  in  a  new  and  better  way ;  he  says, 
with  great  candour  and  simplicity,  *  If  this  poem  were  not 
already  too  long,  I  should  have  added  the  following 
stanzas,'  and  then  he  adds  them,  (p.  84 ;) — or, '  the  follow- 
ing lines  are  manifestly  superfluous,  as  a  part  of  the  text, 
but  they  may  be  allowed  to  stand  as  a  separate  poem,' 
(p.  121,)  which  they  do; — or,  '  I  intended  to  have  added 
something  on  statuary,  but  I  found  it  very  difficult;' — 
(he  had,  moreover,  as  we  have  seen,  been  anticipated  in 
this  line  by  the  Blarney  poet) — '  but  I  have  finished  the 
statues  of  Elijah  and  Olympias — judge  whether  I  have 
succeeded,'  (p.  73) — and  then  we  have  these  two  statues. 
This  is  certainly  the  most  ingenious  device  that  has  ever 
come  under  our  observation,  for  reconciling  the  rigour  of 
criticism  with  the  indulgence  of  parental  partiality.  It 
is  economical  too,  and  to  the  reader  profitable,  as  by 
these  means 

'We  lose  no  drop  of  the  immortal  man.' 

/  The  other  vision  is  '  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women,'  in 

which  the  heroines  of  all  ages — some,  indeed,  that  belong 
to  the  times  of  '  heathen  goddesses  most  rare ' — pasa^  be- 
fore his  view.     We  have  not  time  to  notice  them  all,  but 


TENNYSON'S   POEMS  171 

the  second,  whom  we  take  to  be  Iphigenia,  touches  the 
heart  with  a  stroke  of  nature  more  powerful  than  even 
the  veil  that  the  Grecian  painter  threw  over  the  head  of 
her  father. 

'  dimly  I  could  descry 


The  stern  blackbearded  kings  with  wolfish  eyes, 
Watching  to  see  me  die. 

The  tall  masts  quivered  as  they  lay  afloat; 

The  temples,  and  the  people,  and  the  shore; 
One  drew  a  sharp  knife  through  my  tender  throat — 

Slowly, — and  nothing  more!' 

What  touching  simplicity — what  pathetic  resignation — 
he  cut  my  throat — 'nothing  more!'  One  might  indeed 
ask,  *  what  more '  she  would  have  ? 

But  we  must  hasten  on ;  and  to  tranquillize  the  reader's 
mind  after  this  last  affecting  scene,  shall  notice  the  only 
two  pieces  of  a  lighter  strain  which  the  volume  aflfords. 
The  first  is  elegant  and  playful ;  it  is  a  description  of  the 
author's  study,  which  he  affectionately  calls  his  Darling 
Room. 

*  O  darling  room,  my  heart's  delight ; 

Dear  room,  the  apple  of  my  sight ; 

With  thy  two  couches,  soft  and  white. 

There  is  no  room  so  exquiszf^; 

No  little  room  so  warm  and  bright, 

Wherein  to  read,  wherein  to  write.' 

We  entreat  our  readers  to  note  how,  even  in  this  little 
trifle,  the  singular  taste  and  genius  of  Mr.  Tennyson 
break  forth.  In  such  a  dear  little  room  a  narrow-minded 
scribbler  would  have  been  content  with  one  sofa,  and  that 
one  he  would  probably  have  covered  with  black  mohair, 
or  red  cloth,  or  a  good  striped  chintz ;  how  infinitely  more 


172  THE   QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

characteristic  is  white  dimity ! — 'tis  as  it  were  a  type  of 
the  purity  of  the  poet's  mind.     He  proceeds — 

*  For  I  the  Nonnenwerth  have  seen, 
And  Oberwinter's  vineyards  green, 
Musical  Lurlei;  and  between 
The  hills  to  Bingen  I  have  been, 
Bingen  in  Darmstadt,  where  the  Rhene 
Curves  toward  Mentz,  a  woody  scene. 

'Yet  never  did  there  meet  my  sight. 
In  any  town,  to  left  or  right, 
A  little  room  so  exquiszV^, 
With  two  such  couches  soft  and  white; 
Nor  any  room  so  warm  and  bright, 
Wherein  to  read,  wherein  to  write.' — p.  153. 

A  common  poet  would  have  said  that  he  had  been  in 
London  or  in  Paris — in  the  loveHest  villa  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames,  or  the  most  gorgeous  chateau  on  the  Loire 
— that  he  has  reclined  in  Madame  de  Stael's  boudoir,  and 
mused  in  Mr.  Roger's  comfortable  study;  but  the  darling 
room  of  the  poet  of  nature  (which  we  must  suppose  to  be 
endued  with  sensibility,  or  he  would  not  have  addressed 
it)  would  not  be  flattered  with  such  common-place  com- 
parisons ; — no,  no,  but  it  is  something  to  have  it  said  that 
there  is  no  such  room  in  the  ruins  of  the  Drachenfels,  in 
the  vineyard  of  Oberwinter,  or  even  in  the  rapids  of  the 
Rhene,  under  the  Lurleyberg.  We  have  ourselves  visited 
all  these  celebrated  spots,  and  can  testify  in  corroboration 
of  Mr.  Tennyson,  that  we  did  not  see  in  any  of  them  any- 
thing like  this  little  room  so  exquisiTE. 

The  second  of  the  lighter  pieces,  and  the  last  with  which 
we  shall  delight  our  readers,  is  a  severe  retaliation  on  the 
editor  of  the  Edinburgh  Magazine,  who,  it  seems,  had  not 
treated  the  first  volume  of  Mr.  Tennyson  with  the  same 
respect  that  we  have,  we  trust,  evinced  for  the  second. 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  I73 

'To  Christopher  North. 
You  did  late  review  my  lays. 

Crusty  Christopher; 
You  did  mingle  blame  and  praise 

Rusty  Christopher. 

When  I  learnt  from  whom  it  came 
I  forgave  you  all  the  blame, 

Musty  Christopher; 
I  could  not  forgive  the  praise. 

Fusty  Christopher.' — p.  153. 

Was  there  ever  anything  so  genteelly  turned — so  terse 
— so  sharp — and  the  point  so  stinging  and  so  true? 

'  I  could  not  forgive  the  praise, 
Fusty  Christopher!' 

This  leads  us  to  observe  on  a  phenomenon  which  we 
have  frequently  seen,  but  never  been  able  to  explain.  It 
has  been  occasionally  our  painful  lot  to  excite  the  dis- 
pleasure of  authors  whom  we  have  reviewed,  and  who 
have  vented  their  dissatisfaction,  some  in  prose,  some  in 
verse,  and  som^e  in  what  we  could  not  distinctly  say 
whether  it  was  verse  or  prose;  but  we  have  invariably 
found  that  the  common  formula  of  retort  was  that  adopted 
by  Mr.  Tennyson  against  his  northern  critic,  namely,  that 
the  author  would  always 

— Forgive  us  all  the  blame. 
But  could  not  forgive  the  praise. 

Now  this  seems  very  surprising.  It  has  sometimes, 
though  we  regret  to  say  rarely,  happened,  that,  as  in  the 
present  instance,  we  have  been  able  to  deal  out  unqualified 
praise,  but  never  found  that  the  dose  in  this  case  dis- 
agreed with  the  most  squeamish  stomach;  on  the  con- 


174  THE  QUARTERLY   REVIEW 

trary,  the  patient  has  always  seemed  exceedingly  comfort- 
able after  he  had  swallowed  it.  He  has  been  known  to 
take  the  '  Review  '  home  and  keep  his  wife  from  a  ball, 
and  his  children  from  bed,  till  he  could  administer  it  to 
them,  by  reading  the  article  aloud.  He  has  even  been 
heard  to  recommend  the  '  Review '  to  his  acquaintance  at 
the  clubs,  as  the  best  number  which  has  yet  appeared,  and 
one,  who  happened  to  be  an  M.P.  as  well  as  an  author, 
gave  a  conditional  order,  that  in  case  his  last  work  should 
be  favourably  noticed,  a  dozen  copies  should  be  sent  down 

by  the  mail  to  the  borough  of  .     But,  on  the  other 

hand,  when  it  has  happened  that  the  general  course  of  our 
criticism  has  been  unfavourable,  if  by  accident  we  hap- 
pened to  introduce  the  smallest  spice  of  praise,  the  patient 
immediately  fell  into  paroxysms — declaring  that  the  part 
which  we  foolishly  thought  might  offend  him  had,  on  the 
contrary,  given  him  pleasure — positive  pleasure,  but  that 
which  he  could  not  possibly  either  forget  or  forgive,  was 
the  grain  of  praise,  be  it  ever  so  small,  which  we  had 
dropped  in,  and  for  which,  and  not  for  our  censure,  he 
felt  constrained,  in  honour  and  conscience,  to  visit  us  with 
his  extreme  indignation.  Can  any  reader  or  writer  in- 
form us  how  it  is  that  praise  in  the  wholesale  is  so  very 
agreeable  to  the  very  same  stomach  that  rejects  it  w4th  dis- 
gust and  loathing,  when  it  is  scantily  administered ;  and 
above  all,  can  they  tell  us  why  it  is,  that  the  indignation 
and  nausea  should  be  in  the  exact  inverse  ratio  to  the 
quantity  of  the  ingredient?  These  effects,  of  which  we 
could  quote  several  cases  much  more  violent  than  Mr. 
Tennyson's,  puzzle  us  exceedingly;  but  a  learned  friend, 
whom  we  have  consulted,  has,  though  he  could  not  account 
for  the  phenomenon,  pointed  out  what  he  thought  an 
analogous  case.  It  is  related  of  Mr.  Alderman  Faulkner, 
of  convivial  memory,  that  one  night  when  he  expected  his 


TENNYSON'S  POEMS  i75 

guests  to  sit  late  and  try  the  strength  of  his  claret  and  his 
head,  he  took  the  precaution  of  placing  in  his  wine-glass 
a  strawberry,  which  his  doctor,  he  said,  had  recommended 
to  him  on  account  of  its  cooling  qualities :  on  the  faith  of 
this  specific,  he  drank  even  more  deeply,  and,  as  might  be 
expected,  was  carried  away  at  an  earlier  period  and  in 
rather  a  worse  state,  than  was  usual  with  him.  When 
some  of  his  friends  condoled  with  him  next  day,  and 
attributed  his  misfortune  to  six  bottles  of  claret  which  he 
had  imbibed,  the  Alderman  was  extremely  indignant — 
'  the  claret,'  he  said,  '  was  sound,  and  never  could  do  any 
man  any  harm — his  discomfiture  was  altogether  caused  by 
that  damned  single  strawberry '  which  he  had  kept  all 
night  at  the  bottom  of  his  glass. — The  Quarterly  Review. 


The  Princess;  a  Medley.    By  Alfred  Tennyson.     Moxon. 

That  we  are  behind  most  even  of  our  heaviest  and 
slowest  contemporaries  in  the  notice  of  this  volume,  is 
a  fact  for  which  we  cannot  satisfactorily  account  to  our- 
selves, and  can  therefore  hardly  hope  to  be  able  to  make 
a  valid  excuse  to  our  readers.  The  truth  is,  that  when- 
ever we  turned  to  it  we  became,  like  the  needle  between 
positive  and  negative  electric  poles,  so  attracted  and  re- 
pelled, that  we  vibrated  too  much  to  settle  to  any  fixed 
condition.  Vacillation  prevented  criticism,  and  we  had  to 
try  the  experiment  again  and  again  before  we  could  arrive 
at  the  necessary  equipose  to  indicate  the  right  direction  of 
taste  and  opinion.  We  will  now,  however,  note  our  varia- 
tions, and  leave  them  to  the  public  judgment. 

The  first  lines  of  the  prologue  were  repulsive,  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  poorest  Wordsworth  manner  and  style — 

"  Sir  Walter  Vivian  all  a  summer's  day- 
Gave  his  broad  lawns  until  the  set  of  sun 
Up  to  his  people:    thither  flock'd  at  noon 
His  tenants,  wife  and  child,  and  thither  half 
The  neighbouring  borough  with  their  Institute 
Of  which  he  was  the  patron.     I  was  there 
From  college,  visiting  the  son, — the  son 
A  Walter  too, — with  others  of  our  set." 

The  "  wife  and  child  "  of  the  tenants  is  hardly  intelli- 
gible ;  and  the  "  set "  is  but  a  dubious  expression.  Nor 
can  we  clearly  comprehend  the  next  line  and  a  half — 

"  And  me  that  morning  Walter  show'd  the  house, 
Greek,  set  with  busts  :" 

176 


TENNYSON'S   THE  PRINCESS  i77 

Does  this  mean  that  Sir  Walter  Vivian  inhabited  a 
Greek  house,  and  that  the  college  "  set "  were  guests  in 
that  dwelling  "  set  with  busts  "  ?  To  say  the  least,  this  is 
inelegant,  and  the  affectations  proceed — 

"  From  vases  in  the  hall 
Flowers  of  all  heavens,  and  lovelier  than  their  names, 
Grew  side  by  side. 

Persons  conversant  with  the  botanical  names  of  flowers 
will  hardly  be  able  to  realize  (as  the  Yankees  have  it)  the 
idea  of  their  loveliness;  the  loveliness  of  Hippuris,  Doli- 
chos,  Syngenesia,  Cheiranthus,  Artocarpus,  Arum  dra- 
cunculus,  Ampelopsis  hederaca,  Hexandria,  Monogynea, 
and  the  rest. 

A  good  description  of  the  demi-scientific  sports  of  the 
Institute  follows ;  but  the  house  company  and  inmates  re- 
tire to  a  ruined  abbey  : — 

"  High-arch'd  and  ivy-claspt, 
Of  finest  Gothic,  lighter  than  a  fire." 

This  is  a  curious  jumble  in  company,  two  lights  of  alto- 
gether a  different  nature ;  but  the  party  get  into  a  rattling 
conversation,  in  which  the  noisy  babble  of  the  College 
Cubs  is  satirically  characterized :    we 

"  Told 
Of  college :   he  had  climb'd  across  the  spikes, 
And  he  had  squeez'd  himself  betwixt  the  bars, 
And  he  had  breathed  the  Proctor's  dogs ;  and  one 
Discuss'd  his  tutor,  rough  to  common  men 
But  honeying  at  the  whisper  of  a  lord ; 
And  one  the  Master,  as  a  rogue  in  grain 
Veneer'd  with  sanctimonious  theory." 

The  dialogue  happily  takes  a  turn,  and  the  task   of 
writing  the  Princess  is  assigned  to  the  author,  as  one  of 
15 


178  THE   LITERARY   GAZETTE 

the  tales  in  the  Decameron  of  Boccaccio.  A  neighbouring 
princess  of  the  south  (so  the  story  runs  as  the  prince  tells 
it)  is  in  childhood  betrothed  to  a  like  childish  prince  of 
the  north: — 

"  She  to  me 

Was  proxy-wedded  with  a  bootless  calf  [?] 

At  eight  years  old." 

Both  grew  up,  the  prince,  all  imaginative,  filling  his 
mind  with  pictures  of  her  perfections ;  but  she  turning  a 
female  reformer  of  the  Wolstencroft  [^fc]  school,  re- 
solved never  to  wed  till  woman  was  raised  to  an  equality 
with  men,  and  establishing  a  strange  female  colony  and 
college  to  carry  this  vast  design  into  effect.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  her  father  is  obliged  to  violate  the  contract, 
and  his  indignant  father  prepares  for  war  to  enforce  it. 
The  prince,  with  two  companions,  flies  to  the  south,  to  try 
what  he  can  do  for  himself;  and  in  the  disguise  of  ladies 
they  obtain  admission  to  the  guarded  precincts  of  the  new 
Amazonian  league.  He,  meanwhile,  sings  sweetly  of  his 
mistress — 

"  And  still  I  wore  her  picture  by  my  heart, 

And  one  dark  tress ;  and  all  around  them  both 

Sweet  thoughts  would  swarm  as  bees  about  their  queen." 

And  of  his  friend — 

"  My  other  heart, 
My  shadow,  my  half-self,  for  still  we  moved 
Together,  kin  as  horse's  ear  and  eye." 

His  evasion  is  also  finely  told — 

"  But  when  the  council  broke,  I  rose  and  past 
Through  the  wild  woods  that  hang  about  the  town; 
Found  a  still  place,  and  pluck'd  her  likeness  out: 
Laid  it  on  flowers,  and  watch'd  it  lying  bathed 


TENNYSON'S   THE  PRINCESS  179 

In  the  green  gleam  of  dewy-tassell'd  trees : 

What  were  those  fancies  ?  wherefore  break  her  troth  ? 

Proud  look'd  the  lips :   but  while  I  meditated 

A  wind  arose  and  rush'd  upon  the  South, 

And  shook  the  songs,  the  whispers,  and  the  shrieks 

Of  the  wild  woods  together;  and  a  Voice 

Went  with  it  '  Follow,  follow,  thou  shalt  win !' " 

Almost  in  juxtaposition  with  these  beauties,  we  find  one 
of  the  disagreeable  blots,  so  offensive  to  good  taste,  which 
disfigure  the  poem.  The  travellers  are  interrogating  the 
host  of  an  inn  close  to  the  liberties  where  the  princess 
holds  her  petticoated  sway : — 

"And  at  the  last — 
The  summer  of  the  vine  in  all  his  veins — 
'  No  doubt  that  we  mi'ght  make  it  worth  his  while. 
For  him,  he  reverenced  his  liege-lady  there; 
He  always  made  a  point  to  post  with  mares; 
His  daughter  and  his  housemaid  were  the  boys. 
The  land,  he  understood,  for  miles  about 
Was  till'd  by  women ;  all  the  swine  were  sows. 
And  all  the  dogs  '  " — 

This  is  too  bad,  even  for  medley ;  but  proceed  we  into 
the  interior  of  the  grand  and  luxurious  feminine  institu- 
tion, where  their  sex  is  speedily  discovered,  but  for  certain 
reasons  concealed  by  the  discoverers.  Lectures  on  the 
past  and  what  might  be  done  to  accomplish  female 
equality,  and  description  of  the  boundaries,  the  dwelling 
place,  and  the  dwellers  therein,  fill  many  a  page  of  mingled 
excellence  and  defects.  Here  is  a  sample  of  both  in  half  a 
dozen  lines : — 

"  We  saw 

The  Lady  Blanche's  daughter  where  she  stood, 

Melissa,  with  her  hand  upon  the  lock, 

A  rosy  blonde,  and  in  a  college  gown 

That  clad  her  like  an  April  daffodilly 


i8o  THE   LITERARY    GAZETTE 

(Her  mother's  colour)  with  her  lips  apart, 
And  all  her  thoughts  as  fair  within  her  eyes, 
As  bottom  agates  seem  to  wave  and  Hoat 
In  crystal  cm-rents  of  clear  morning  seas." 

Curious  contradictions  in  mere  terms,  also  occasionally 
occur.     Thus,  of  a  frightened  girl,  we  are  told  that — 

"Light 
As  flies  the  shadow  of  a  bird  she  fled." 

Events  move  on.  The  prince  reasons  as  a  man  in  a 
colloquy  with  the  princess,  and  speaks  of  the  delights  of 
maternal  affections,  and  she  replies — 

"  We  are  not  talk'd  to  thus : 
Yet  will  we  say  for  children,  would  they  grew 
Like  field-flowers  everywhere !    we  like  them  well : 
But  children  die;  and  let  me  tell  you,  girl, 
Howe'er  you  babble,  great  deeds  cannot  die : 
They  with  the  sun  and  moon  renew  their  light 
Forever,  blessing  those  that  look  on  them : 
Children — that  men  may  pluck  them  from  our  hearts. 
Kill  us  with  pity,  break  us  with  ourselves — 
O — children — there  is  nothing  upon  earth 
More  miserable  than  she  that  has  a  son 
And  sees  him  err:" 

A  song  on  "  The  days  that  are  no  more,"  seems  to  us 
to  be  too  laboured,  nor  is  the  other  lyric  introduced,  "  The 
Swallow,"  much  more  to  our  satisfaction.  It  is  a  mixture 
of  prettinesses :  the  first  four  triplets  run  thus,  ending  in 
a  poetic  beauty — 

"  O  Swallow,  Swallow,  flying,  flying  South, 
Fly  to  her,  and  fall  upon  her  gilded  eaves. 
And  tell  her,  tell  her  what  I  tell  to  thee. 


TENNYSON'S   THE  PRINCESS  i8i 

"  O  tell  her,  Swallow,  thou  that  knowest  each, 
That  bright  and  fierce  and  fickle  is  the  South, 
And  dark  and  true  and  tender  is  the  North. 

"  O  Swallow,  Swallow,  if  I  could  follow,  and  light 
Upon  her  lattice,  I  would  pipe  and  trill. 
And  cheep  and  twitter  twenty  million  loves. 

"  O  were  I  thou  that  she  might  take  me  in, 
And  lay  me  on  her  bosom,  and  her  heart 
Would  rock  the  snozuy  cradle  till  I  died." 

The  prince  saves  the  princess  from  being  drowned, 
when  the  secret  explodes  like  a  roll  of  gun  cotton,  and  a 
grand  turmoil  ensues.  The  rival  kings  approach  to  con- 
fines in  battle  array,  and  the  princess  resumes  the  declara- 
tion of  war : — 

"  A  tide  of  fierce 
Invective  seem'd  to  wait  behind  her  lips, 
As  waits  a  river  level  with  the  dam 
Ready  to  burst  and  flood  the  world  with  foam: 
And  so  she  would  have  spoken,  but  there  rose 
A  hubbub  in  the  court  of  half  the  maids 
Gather'd  together;  from  the  illumin'd  hall 
Long  lanes  of  splendour  slanted  o'er  a  press 
Of  snowy  shoulders,  thick  as  herded  ewes, 
And  rainbow  robes,  and  gems  and  gemlike  eyes, 
And  gold  and  golden  heads;  they  to  and  fro 
Fluctuated,  as  flowers  in  storm,  some  red,  same  pale, 
All  open-mouth'd,  all  gazing  to  the  light. 
Some  crying  there  was  an  army  in  the  land. 
And  some  that  men  were  in  the  very  walls, 
And  some  they  cared  not ;  till  a  clamour  grew 
As  of  a  new-world  Babel,  woman-built. 
And  worse-confounded :    high  above  them  stood 
The  placid  marble  Muses,  looking  peace." 

She  denounces  the  perils  outside  and  in — 


1 82  THE  LITERARY   GAZETTE 

" I  dare 
All  these  male  thunderbolts:    what  is  it  ye  fear? 
Peace!   there  are  those  to  avenge  us  and  they  come: 
If  not, — myself  were  like  enough,  O  girls, 
To  unfurl  the  maiden  banner  of  our  rights, 
And  clad  in  iron  burst  the  ranks  of  war. 
Or,  falling,  protomartyr  of  our  cause. 
Die:   yet  I  blame  ye  not  so  much  for  fear; 
Six  thousand  years  of  fear  have  made  ye  that 
From  which  I  would  redeem  ye:   but  for  those 
That  stir  this  hubbub — you  and  you — I  know 
Your  faces  there  in  the  crowd — to-morrow  mom 
We  meet  to  elect  new  tutors;  then  shall  they 
That  love  their  voices  more  than  duty,  learn 
With  whom  they  deal,  dismiss'd  in  shame  to  live 
No  wiser  than  their  mothers,  household  stuff. 
Live  chattels,  mincers  of  each  other's  fame. 
Full  of  weak  poison,  turnspits  for  the  clown, 
The  drunkard's  football,  laughing-stocks  of  Time, 
Whose  brains  are  in  their  hands  and  in  their  heels, 
But  fit  to  flaunt,  to  dress,  to  dance,  to  thrum. 
To  tramp,  to  scream,  to  burnish,  and  to  scour 
For  ever  slaves  at  home  and  fools  abroad." 

Ay,  just  as  Shakspere  hath  it — 

"To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer." 

The  hero  also  meets  the  shock,  at  least  in  poetic  grace : — 

"Upon  my  spirits 
Settled  a  gentle  cloud  of  melancholy. 
Which  I  shook  off,  for  I  was  young,  and  one 
To  whom  the  shadow  of  all  mischance  but  came 
As  night  to  him  that  sitting  on  a  hill 
Sees  the  midsummer,  midnight,  Norway  sun, 
Set  into  sunrise." 

It  is  agreed  to  decide  the  contest  by  a  combat  of  fifty 
on  each  side — the  one  led  by  the  prince,  and  the  other  by 


TENNYSON'S   THE  PRINCESS  183 

Arac,  the  brother  of  the  princess.     And  clad  in  "  har- 
ness " — 

"  Issued  in  the  sun  that  now 
Leapt  from  the  dewy  shoulders  of  the  Earth, 
And  hit  the  northern  hills." 
9 

To  the  fight — 

"  Then  rode  we  with  the  old  king  across  the  lawns 
Beneath  huge  trees,  a  thousand  rings  of  Spring 
In  every  bole,  a  song  on  every  spray 
Of  birds  that  piped  their  Valentines." 

The  prince  and  his  companions  are  defeated;  and  he, 
wounded  almost  to  the  death,  is  consigned  at  her  own  re- 
quest to  be  nursed  by  the  princess : — 

"  So  was  their  sanctuary  violated. 
So  their  fair  college  turn'd  to  hospital; 
At  first  with  all  confusion;  by  and  by 
Sweet  order  lived  again  with  other  laws; 
A  kindlier  influence  reign'd ;  and  everywhere 
Low  voices  with  the  ministering  hand 
Hung  round  the  sick." 

The  result  may  be  foreseen — 

"  From  all  a  closer  interest  flourish'd  up. 
Tenderness  touch  by  touch,  and  last,  to  these, 
Love,  like  an  Alpine  harebell  hung  with  tears 
By  some  cold  morning  glacier;  frail  at  first 
And  feeble,  all  unconscious  of  itself, 
But  such  as  gather'd  colour  day  by  day." 

And  the  agreement  is  filled  up : — 

"  Dear,  but  let  us  type  them  now 
In  our  lives,  and  this  proud  watchword  rest 
Of  equal ;  seeing  either  sex  alone 
Is  half  itself,  and  in  true  marriage  lies 


j  184  THE   LITERARY   GAZETTE 

Nor  equal,  nor  unequal :    each  fulfils 

Defect  in  each,  and  always  thought  in  thought. 

Purpose  in  purpose,  will  in  will,  they  grow, 

The  single  pure  and  perfect  animal, 

The  two-cell'd  heart  beating  with  one  full  stroke 

Life  " 

"  O  we  will  walk  this  world, 
Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  end. 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  v;ild 
That  no  man  knows.     Indeed  I  love  thee ;  come, 
Yield  thyself  up;  my  hopes  and  thine  are  one; 
Accomplish  thou  my  manhood  and  thyself 
Lay  thy  sweet  hands  in  mine  and  trust  to  me." 

Who  will  question  the  true  poetry  of  this  production, 
or  who  will  deny  the  imperfections,  (mostly  of  affectation, 
though  some  of  tastelessness)  which  obscure  it?  Who 
will  wonder  at  our  confessed  wavering  when  they  have 
read  this  course  of  alternate  power,  occasionally  extrava- 
gant, and  feebleness  as  in  the  long  account  of  the  emeutef 
Of  the  extravagant,  the  description  of  the  princess,  on  re- 
ceiving the  declaration  of  war,  is  an  example : — 

"  She  read,  till  over  brow 
And  cheek  and  bosom  brake  the  wrathful  bloom 
As  of  some  fire  against  a  stormy  cloud, 
When  the  wild  peasant  rights  himself,  and  the  rick 
Flames,  and  his  anger  reddens  in  the  heavens." 

The  heroine,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  is  much  of  the 
virago  throughout,  and  the  prince  rather  of  the  softest; 
but  the  tale  could  not  be  otherwise  told.  We  add  four 
examples — two  to  be  admired,  and  two  to  be  contemned, 
in  the  fulfilment  of  our  critique. 

"  For  was,  and  is,  and  will  be,  are  but  is," 

is  a  noble  line;  and  the  following,  on  the  promised  re- 
storation of  a  child  to  its  mother,  is  very  touching — 


TENNYSON'S    THE   PRINCESS  185 

"  Again  she  veiled  her  brows,  and  prone  she  sank,  and  so 
Like  tender  things  that  being  caught  feign  death, 
Spoke  not,  nor  stirr'd." 

Not  so  the  burlesque  eight  daughters  of  the  plough,  the 
brawny  mmisters  of  the  princess'  executive,  and  their 
usage  of  a  herald.     They  were — 

"  Eight  daughters  of  the  plough,  stronger  than  men. 
Huge  women  blowzed  with  health,  and  wind,  and  rain 
And  labour.     Each  was  like  a  Druid  rock; 
Or  like  a  spire  of  land  that  stands  apart 
Cleft  from  the  main,  and  clang'd  about  with  mews." 

And  they — 

"  Came  sallying  through  the  gates,  and  caught  his  hair, 
And  so  belabour'd  him  on  rib  and  cheek 
They  made  him  wild." 

Nor  the  following — 

"  When  the  man  wants  weight  the  woman  takes  it  up, 
And  topples  down  the  scales ;  but  this  is  fixt 
As  are  the  roots  of  earth  and  base  of  all. 
Man  for  the  field  and  woman  for  the  hearth ; 
Man  for  the  sword  and  for  the  needle  she; 
Man  with  the  head  and  woman  with  the  heart; 
Man  to  command  and  woman  to  obey; 
All  else  confusion.    Look  to  it;  the  gray  mare 
Is  ill  to  live  with,  when  her  whinny  shrills 
From  tile  to  scullery,  and  her  small  goodman 
Shrinks  in  his  arm-chair  while  the  fires  of  Hell 
Mix  with  his  hearth ;  but  take  and  break  her,  you ! 
She's  yet  a  colt.     Well  groom'd  and  strongly  curb'd 
She   might   not   rank   with   those   detestable 
That  to  the  hireling  leave  their  babe,  and  brawl 
Their  rights  or  wrongs  like  potherbs  in  the  street. 
They  say  she's  comely;  there's  the  fairer  chance: 


1 86  THE  LITERARY   GAZETTE 

/  like  her  none  the  less  for  rating  at  her ! 
Besides,  the  woman  wed  is  not  as  we, 
But  suffers  change  of  frame.     A  lusty  brace 
Of  twins  may  weed  her  of  her  folly.     Boy, 
The  bearing  and  the  training  of  a  child 
Is  woman's  wisdom." 

— The  Literary  Gazette. 


Robert  Browning 

Paracelsus.     By  Robert  Browning 

There  is  talent  in  this  dramatic  poem,  (in  which  is  at- 
tempted a  picture  of  the  mind  of  this  celebrated  charac- 
ter,) but  it  is  dreamy  and  obscure.  Writers  would  do 
well  to  remember,  (by  way  of  example,)  that  though  it 
is  not  difficult  to  imitate  the  mysticism  and  vagueness  of 
Shelley,  we  love  him  and  have  taken  him  to  our  hearts  as 
a  poet,  not  because  of  these  characteristics — but  in  spite 
of  them. — The  Athenceum. 


187 


Sordello.      By    Robert    Browning.      London:    Moxon. 
1840. 

The  scene  of  this  poem  is  laid  in  Italy,  when  the 
Ghibelline  and  Guelph  factions  were  in  hottest  contest. 
The  author's  style  is  rather  peculiar,  there  being  affecta- 
tions of  language  and  invertions  of  thought,  and  other 
causes  of  obscurity  in  the  course  of  the  story  which  de- 
tract from  the  pleasure  of  perusing  it.  But  after  all,  we 
are  much  mistaken  if  Mr.  Browning  does  not  prove  him- 
self a  poet  of  a  right  stamp, — original,  vigorous,  and 
finely  inspired.  He  appears  to  us  to  possess  a  true  sense 
of  the  dignity  and  sacredness  of  the  poet's  kingdom ;  and 
his  imagination  wings  its  way  with  a  boldness,  freedom 
and  scope,  as  if  he  felt  himself  at  home  in  that  sphere,  and 
was  resolved  to  put  his  allegiance  to  the  test. — The 
Monthly  Review. 


188 


Men  and  Women.    By  Robert  Browning.    Two  Volumes. 
Chapman  and  Hall. 

It  is  really  high  time  that  this  sort  of  thing  should,  if 
possible,  be  stopped.  Here  is  another  book  of  madness 
and  mysticism — another  melancholy  specimen  of  power 
wantonly  wasted,  and  talent  deliberately  perverted — 
another  act  of  self-prostration  before  that  demon  of  bad 
taste  who  now  seems  to  hold  in  absolute  possession  the 
fashionable  masters  of  our  ideal  literature.  It  is  a  strong 
case  for  the  correctional  justice  of  criticism,  which  has 
too  long  abdicated  its  proper  functions.  The  Delia  Crusca 
of  Sentimentalism  perished  under  the  Baviad — is  there 
to  be  no  future  Gifford  for  the  Delia  Crusca  of  Trans- 
cendentalism ?  The  thing  has  really  grown  to  a  lamentable 
head  amongst  us.  The  contagion  has  affected  not  only 
our  sciolists  and  our  versifiers,  but  those  whom,  in  the 
absence  of  a  mightier  race,  we  must  be  content  to  accept 
as  the  poets  of  our  age.  Here  is  Robert  Browning,  for 
instance — no  one  can  doubt  that  he  is  capable  of  better 
things — no  one,  while  deploring  the  obscurities  that  deface 
the  Paracelsus  and  the  Dramatic  Lyrics,  can  deny  the  less 
questionable  qualities  which  characterized  those  remark- 
able poems — but  can  any  of  his  devotees  be  found  to 
uphold  his  present  elaborate  experiment  on  the  patience 
of  the  public  ?  Take  any  of  his  worshippers  you  please — 
let  him  be  "  well  up  "  in  the  transcendental  poets  of  the 
day — take  him  fresh  from  Alexander  Smith,  or  Alfred 
Tennyson's  Maud,  or  the  Mystic  of  Bailey — and  we  will 
engage  to  find  him  at  least  ten  passages  in  the  first  ten 
pages  of  Men  and  Women,  some  of  which,  even  after  pro- 
found study,  he  will  not  be  able  to  construe  at  all,  and 


19°  THE   SATURDAY  REVIEW 

not  one  of  which  he  will  be  able  to  read  off  at  sight.  Let 
us  take  one  or  two  selections  at  random  from  the  first 
volume,  and  try.  What,  for  instance,  is  the  meaning  of 
these  four  stanzas  from  the  poem  entitled  "  By  the  Fire- 
side"?— 

My  perfect  wife,  my  Leonor, 

Oh,  heart  my  own,  oh,  eyes,  mine  too, 
Whom  else  could  I  dare  look  backward  for, 

With  whom  beside  should  I  dare  pursue 
The  path  grey  heads  abhor? 

For  it  leads  to  a  crag's  sheer  edge  with  them; 

Youth,  flowery  all  the  way,  there  stops — 
Not  they;  age  threatens  and  they  contemn, 

Till  they  reach  the  gulf  wherein  youth  drops, 
One  inch  from  our  life's  safe  hem! 

With  me,  youth  led — I  will  speak  now, 

No  longer  watch  you  as  you  sit 
Reading  by  fire-light,  that  great  brow 

And  the  spirit-small  hand  propping  it 
Mutely — my  heart  knows  how — 

When,  if  I  think  but  deep  enough. 
You  are  wont  to  answer,  prompt  as  rhyme ; 

And  you,  too,  find  without  a  rebuff 
The  response  your  soul  seeks  many  a  time 

Piercing  its  fine  flesh-stufif — 

We  really  should  think  highly  of  the  powers  of  any 
interpreter  who  could  "  pierce "  the  obscurity  of  such 
"  stuff  "  as  this.  One  extract  more  and  we  have  done. 
A  gold  medal  in  the  department  of  Hermeneutical  Science 
to  the  ingenious  individual,  who,  after  any  length  of  study, 
can  succeed  in  unriddling  this  tremendous  passage  from 
"  Master  Hugues  of  Saxe-Gotha,"  the  organist : — 


BROWNING'S   MEN  AND   WOMEN  191 

First  you  deliver  your  phrase 

— Nothing  propound,  that  I  see, 
Fit  in  itself  for  much  blame  or  much  praise — 

Answered  no  less,  where  no  answer  needs  be : 
Off  start  the  Two  on  their  ways ! 

Straight  must  a  Third  interpose, 

Volunteer  needlessly  help — 
In  strikes  a  Fourth,  a  Fifth  thrusts  in  his  nose. 

So  the  cry's  open,  the  kennel's  a-yelp, 
Argument's  hot  to  the  close ! 

One  disertates,  he  is  candid — 

Two  must  dicept, — has  distinguished ! 
Three  helps  the  couple,  if  ever  yet  man  did : 

Four  protests.  Five  makes  a  dart  at  the  thing  wished — 
Back  to  One,  goes  the  case  bandied! 

One  says  his  say  with  a  difference — 

More  of  expounding,  explaining! 
All  now  is  wrangle,  abuse,  and  vociferance — 

Now  there's  a  truce,  all's  subdued,  self-restraining — 
Five,  though,  stands  out  all  the  stiffer  hence. 

One  is  incisive,  corrosive — 

Two  retorts,  nettled,  curt,  crepitant — 
Three  makes  rejoinder,  expansive,  explosive — 

Four  overbears  them  all,  strident  and  strepitant — 
Five  .  .  .  O  Danaides,  O  Sieve ! 

Now,  they  ply  axes  and  crowbars — 

Now  they  prick  pins  at  a  tissue 
Fine  as  a  skein  of  the  casuist  Escobar's 

Worked  on  the  bone  of  a  lie.     To  what  issue? 
Where  is  our  gain  at  the  Two-bars? 

Est  fuga,  volvitur  rota! 

On  we  drift.     Where  looms  the  dim  port? 

One,  Two,  Three,  Four,  Five,  contribute  their  quota- 
Something  is  gained,  if  one  caught  but  the  import — 

Show  it  us,  Hugues  of  Saxe-Gotha! 


192  THE   SATURDAY   REVIEW 

What   [with]   afifirming,  denying, 

Holding,  risposting,  subjoining, 
All's  like  .  .  .  it's  like  .  .  .  for  an  instance  I'm  trying  .  .  . 

There!    See  our  roof,  its  gilt  moulding  and  groining 
Under  those  spider-webs  lying  ? 

So  your  fugue  broadens  and  thickens, 

Greatens  and  deepens  and  lengthens, 
Till  one  exclaims — "  But  where's  music,  the  dickens  ? 

Blot  ye  the  gold,  while  your  spider-web  strengthens, 
Blacked  to  the  stoutest  of  tickens?" 

Do  our  readers  exclaim,  "  But  where's  poetry — the 
dickens — in  all  this  rigmarole?"  We  confess  we  can  find 
none — we  can  find  nothing  but  a  set  purpose  to  be  obscure, 
and  an  idiot  captivity  to  the  jingle  of  Hudibrastic  rhyme. 
This  idle  weakness  really  appears  to  be  at  the  bottom  of 
half  the  daring  nonsense  in  this  most  daringly  nonsensical 
book.  Hudibras  Butler  told  us  long  ago  that  "  rhyme 
the  rudder  is  of  verses;"  and  when,  as  in  his  case,  or  in 
that  of  Ingoldsby  Barham,  or  Whims-and-  Oddities  Hood, 
the  rudder  guides  the  good  ship  into  tracks  of  fun  and 
fancy  she  might  otherwise  have  missed,  we  are  grateful 
to  the  double-endings,  not  on  their  own  account,  but  for 
what  they  have  led  us  to.  But  Mr.  Browning  is  the  mere 
thrall  of  his  own  rudder,  and  is  constantly  being  steered 
by  it  into  whirlpools  of  the  most  raging  absurdity.  This 
morbid  passion  for  double  rhymes,  which  is  observable 
more  or  less  throughout  the  book,  reaches  its  climax  in  a 
long  copy  of  verses  on  the  "  Old  Pictures  of  Florence," 
which,  with  every  disposition  to  be  tolerant  of  the  frailties 
of  genius,  we  cannot  hesitate  to  pronounce  a  masterpiece 
of  absurdity.  Let  the  lovers  of  the  Hudibrastic  admire 
these  tours  de  force: — 


BROWNING'S  MEN  AND   WOMEN  ^93 

Not  that  I  expect  the  great  Bigordi 

Nor  Sandro  to  hear  me,  chivalric,  belhcose; 
Nor  wronged  Lippino — and  not  a  word  I 

Say  of  a  scrap  of  Fra  Angelico's. 
But  you  are  too  fine,  Taddeo  Gaddi, 

So  grant  me  a  taste  of  your  intonaco — 
Some  Jerome  that  seeks  the  heaven  with  a  sad  eye? 

No  churlish  saint,  Lorenzo  Monaco? 

Margheritone  of  Arezzo, 

With  the  grave-clothes  garb  and  swaddling  barret, 
(Why  purse  up  mouth  and  beak  in  a  pet  so, 

You  bald,  saturnine,  poll-clawed  parrot?) 
No  poor  glimmering  Crucifixion, 

Where  in  the  foreground  kneels  the  donor? 
If  such  remain,  as  is  my  conviction, 

The  hoarding  does  you  but  little  honour. 

The  conclusion  of  this  poem  rises  to  a  climax: — 

How  shall  we  prologuise,  how  shall  we  perorate, 

Say  fit  things  upon  art  and  history — 
Set  truth  at  blood-heat  and  the  false  at  zero  rate, 

Make  of  the  want  of  the  age  no  mystery ! 
Contrast  the  fructuous  and  sterile  eras. 

Show,  monarchy  its  uncouth  cub  licks 
Out  of  the  bear's  shape  to  the  chimera's — 

Pure  Art's  birth  being  still  the  republic's! 

Then  one  shall  propose  (in  a  speech,  curt  Tuscan, 

Sober,  expurgate,  spare  of  an  "  issimo,") 
Ending  our  half-told  tale  of  Cambuscan, 

Turning  the  Bell-tower's  altaltissimo. 
And  fine  as  the  beak  of  a  young  beccaccia 

The  Campanile,  the  Duomo's  fit  ally, 
Soars  up  in  gold  its  full  fifty  braccia, 

Completing  Florence,  as  Florence,  Italy. 

How  really  deplorable  is  all  this!    On  what  theory  of 
art  can  it  possibly  be  defended  ?   In  all  the  fine  arts  alike 
i6 


194  THE   SATURDAY  REVIEW 

— ^poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  music — the  master  works 
have  this  in  common,  that  they  please  in  the  highest  degree 
the  most  cultivated,  and  to  the  widest  extent  the  less  culti- 
vated.    Lear  and  the  Divine  Comedy  exhaust  the  thinking 
of  the  profoundest  student,  yet  subdue  to  hushed  and 
breathless  attention  the  illiterate  minds  that  know  not 
what  study  means.     The  "  Last  Judgment,"  the  "  Trans- 
figuration," the  "  Niobe,"  and  the  "  Dying  Gladiator  "  ex- 
cite alike  the  intelligent  rapture  of  artists,  and  the  unin- 
telligent admiration  of  those  to  whom  art  and  its  principles 
are  a  sealed  book.     Handel's  Israel  in  Egypt — the  wonder 
of  the  scientific  musician  in  his  closet — yet  sways  to  and 
fro,  like  a  mighty  wind  upon  the  waters,  the  hearts  of 
assembled  thousands  at  an  Exeter  Hall  oratorio.     To  take 
an  instance  more  striking  still,  Beethoven,  the  sublime, 
the  rugged,  the  austere,  is  also,  as  even  Mons.  Jullien 
could  tell  us,  fast  becoming  a  popular  favourite.     Now 
why  is  this?     Simply  because  these  master  minds,  under 
the  divine  teaching  of  genius,  have  known  how  to  clothe 
their  works  in  a  beauty  of  form  incorporate  with  their 
very  essence — a  beauty  of  form  which  has  an  elective 
affinity  with  the  highest  instincts  of  universal  humanity. 
And  it  is  on  this  beauty  of  form,  this  exquisite  perfection 
of  style,  that  the  Baileys  and  the  Brownings  would  have 
us  believe  that  they   set  small  account,  that  they  pur- 
posely and   scornfully  trample.     We  do  not  believe  it. 
We  believe  that  it  is  only  because  they  are  half-gifted  that 
they  are  but  half-intelligible.     Their  mysticism  is  weak- 
ness— weakness  writhing  itself  into  contortions  that  it 
may  ape  the  muscles  of  strength.     Artistic  genius,  in  its 
higher  degrees,  necessarily  involves  the  power  of  beautiful 
self-expression.     It  is  but  a  weak  and  watery  sun  that 
allows  the  fogs  to  hang  heavy  between  the  objects  on 
which  it  shines  and  the  eyes  it  would  enlighten;  the  true 


BROWNING'S  MEN  AND   WOMEN  195 

day-star  chases  the  mists  at  once,  and  shows  us  the  world 
at  a  glance. 

Our  main  object  has  been  to  protest  against  what  we 
feel  to  be  the  false  teachings  of  a  perverted  school  of  art ; 
and  we  have  used  this  book  of  Mr,  Browning's  chiefly  as 
a  means  of  showing  the  extravagant  lengths  of  absurdity 
to  which  the  tenets  of  that  school  can  lead  a  man  of  ad- 
mitted powers.  We  should  regret,  however  in  the  pur- 
suit of  this  object  to  inflict  injustice  on  Mr.  Browning. 
This  last  book  of  his,  like  most  of  its  predecessors,  con- 
tains some  undeniable  beauties — subtle  thoughts,  graceful 
fancies,  and  occasionally  a  strain  of  music,  which  only 
makes  the  chaos  of  surrounding  discords  jar  more  harshly 
on  the  ear.  The  dramatic  scenes  "  In  a  Balcony "  are 
finely  conceived  and  vigorously  written ;  "  Bishop  Bloug- 
ram's  Apology,"  and  "  Cleon,"  are  well  worth  reading 
and  thinking  over ;  and  there  is  a  certain  grace  and  beauty 
in  several  of  the  minor  poems.  That  which,  on  the  whole, 
has  pleased  us  most — really,  perhaps,  because  we  could 
read  it  off-hand— is  "  The  Statue  and  the  Bust,"  of  which 
we  give  the  opening  stanzas : — 

[Quotes  fourteen  stanzas  of  The  Statue  and  the  Bust.^ 

Why  should  a  man,  who,  with  so  little  apparent  labour, 
can  write  naturally  and  well,  take  so  much  apparent  labour 
to  write  affectedly  and  ill  ?  There  can  be  but  one  of  two 
solutions.  Either  he  goes  wrong  from  want  of  knowl- 
edge, in  which  case  it  is  clear  that  he  wants  the  highest 
intuitions  of  genius;  or  he  sins  against  knowledge,  in 
which  case  he  must  have  been  misled  by  the  false  prompt- 
ings of  a  morbid  vanity,  eager  for  that  applause  of  fools 
which  always  waits  on  quackery,  and  which  is  never  re- 
fused to  extravagance  when  tricked  out  in  the  guise  of 
originality.     It   is   difficult,    from   the   internal   evidence 


196  THE   SATURDAY   REVIEW 

supplied  by  his  works,  to  know  which  of  these  two  theories 
to  adopt.  Frequently  the  conclusion  is  almost  irresistible, 
that  Mr.  Browning's  mysticism  must  be  of  malice  pre- 
pense: on  the  whole,  however,  we  are  incHned  to  clear  his 
honesty  at  the  expense  of  his  powers,  and  to  conclude  that 
he  is  obscure,  not  so  much  because  he  has  the  vanity  to 
be  thought  original,  as  because  he  lacks  sufficient  genius 
to  make  himself  clear. — The  Saturday  Review. 


NOTES 

Thomas  Gray 

When  Gray's  Elegy  Written  in  a  Country  Church-Yard  ap- 
peared in  1751,  the  Monthly  Rev.,  IV,  p.  309,  gave  it  the  following 
curious  notice: — "The  excellence  of  this  little  piece  amply  com- 
pensates for  its  want  of  quantity."  The  immediate  success  and 
popularity  of  the  Elegy  established  Gray's  poetical  reputation; 
hence  his  Odes  (i7S7)  were  received  and  criticized  as  the  work 
of  a  poet  of  whom  something  entirely  different  was  expected. 
The  thin  quarto  volume  containing  The  Progress  of  Poesy  and 
The  Bard  (entitled  merely  Ode  I  and  Ode  II  in  that  edition)  was 
printed  for  Dodsley  by  Horace  Walpole  at  Strawberry  Hill,  and 
was  published  on  August  8,  1757.  Within  a  fortnight  Gray  wrote 
to  Thomas  Warton  that  the  poems  were  not  at  all  popular,  the 
great  objection  being  their  obscurity;  a  week  later  he  wrote  to 
Hurd : — "  Even  my  friends  tell  me  they  [the  Odes]  do  not  suc- 
ceed ...  in  short,  I  have  heard  nobody  but  a  player  [Garrick] 
and  a  doctor  of  divinity  [Warburton]  that  profess  their  esteem 
for  them."  For  further  comment,  see  Gray's  Works,  ed.  Gosse,  II, 
pp.  321-328. 

Our  review,  which  is  reprinted  from  Monthly  Rev.,  XVII  (239- 
243)  (September,  1757),  was  written  by  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  is 
included  in  most  of  the  collected  editions  of  his  works.  Al- 
though it  was  practically  wrung  from  Goldsmith  while  he  was  the 
unwilling  thrall  of  Griffiths,  it  is  a  noteworthy  piece  of  criticism 
for  its  time — certainly  far  superior  to  the  general  standard  of  the 
Monthly  Review.  While  recognizing  the  scholarly  merit  of  the 
poet's  work,  Goldsmith  showed  clearly  why  the  Odes  could  not 
become  popular.  A  more  favorable  notice  of  the  volume  appeared 
in  the  Critical  Rev.,  IV,  p.  167. 

In  reprinting  this  review,  the  long  quotations  from  both  odes 
have  been  omitted.  This  precedent  is  followed  in  all  cases  where 
the  quotations  are  of  inordinate  length,  or  are  offered  merely  as 
"  specimens  "  without  specific  criticism.  No  useful  end  would  be 
served  in  reprinting  numerous  pages  of  classic  extracts  that  are 

197 


igS  NOTES 

readily  accessible  to  every  student.     All  omissions  are,  of  course, 
properly  indicated. 

1.  Quinault.     Philippe   Quinault    (1635-1688),   a   popular  French 

dramatist  and  librettist. 

2.  Mark'd  for  her  oivn.     An  allusion  to  the  line  in  the  Epitaph 

appended  to  the  Elegy:    "And  Melancholy  marked  him  for 
her  own." 

Oliver  Goldsmith 

Goldsmith's  Traveller  (1764)  was  begun  as  early  as  1755 — ^be- 
fore he  had  expressed  what  Professor  Dowden  calls  his  "  qualified 
enthusiasm "  and  "  oflEicial  admiration "  for  Gray's  Odes.  In 
criticizing  Gray,  he  quoted  Isocrates'  advice — Study  the  people — 
and  properly  bore  that  precept  in  mind  while  he  was  shaping  his 
own  verses.  The  Odes  and  the  Traveller  are  respectively  charac- 
teristic utterances  of  their  authors — of  the  academic  recluse,  and 
of  the  warm-hearted  lover  of  humanity. 

The  review,  quoted  from  the  Critical  Rev.,  XVIII  (458-462) 
(December,  1764),  is  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.  Apart 
from  its  distinguished  authorship  and  the  strong  words  of  com- 
mendation in  the  final  sentence,  it  possesses  slight  interest  as 
literary  criticism.  It  is,  in  fact,  little  more  than  a  brief  summary 
of  the  poem,  enriched  by  a  few  well-chosen  illustrative  extracts. 
The  fact  that  Johnson  contributed  nine  or  ten  lines  to  the  poem 
(see  Boswell,  ed.  Hill,  I,  p.  441,  n.  i,  and  II,  p.  6)  may  account 
partly  for  the  character  of  the  review.  Johnson's  quotations  from 
the  poem  are  not  continuous  and  show  several  variations  from 
authoritative  texts. 

William  Cowper 

Cowper  stands  almost  alone  among  English  poets  as  an  instance 
of  late  manifestation  of  poetic  power.  He  was  over  fifty  years 
of  age  when  he  offered  his  first  volume  of  Poems  (1782)  to  the 
public.  This  collection,  which  included  Table-Talk  and  other 
didactic  poems,  appeared  at  the  beginning  of  the  most  prosaic  age 
in  the  history  of  modem  English  literature;  yet  the  critics  did 
not  find  it  sufficiently  striking  in  quality  to  differentiate  it  from 
the  level  of  contemporary  verse,  or  to  forecast  the  success  of 
The  Task  and  John  Gilpin's  Ride  three  years  later. 

The  notice  in  the  Critical  Rev.,  LIII  (287-290),  appeared  in 
April,   1782.    While  the  same  poems  are  but   slightly  esteemed 


NOTES  299 

to-day,  it  must  be  recognized  that  the  attitude  of  the  reviewer  was 
severe  for  his  time.  The  age  had  grown  accustomed  to  large 
draughts  of  moralizing  and  didacticism  in  verse,  and  the  quality  of 
Cowper's  contribution  was  assuredly  above  the  average.  The 
Monthly  Rev.,  LXVII,  p.  262,  gave  the  Poems  a  much  more  favor- 
able reception. 
ID.  Non  Dii,  non  homines,  etc.     Properly,  non  homines,  non  di, 

Horace,  Ars  Poetica,  1.  37Z- 
ID.  Caraccioli.    Jouissance  de  soi-meme  (ed.  1762),  cap.  xii. 
II.  There  needs  no  ghost,  etc.     See  Hamlet,  I,  5.  no. 

Robert  Burns 

The  Kilmarnock  edition  (1786)  of  Burns'  Poems  was  published 
during  the  most  eventful  period  of  the  poet's  life ;  the  almost  uni- 
versally kind  reception  accorded  to  this  volume  was  the  one 
source  of  consolation  amid  many  sorrows  and  distractions.  Two 
reviews  have  been  selected  to  illustrate  both  the  Scottish  and 
English  attitude  toward  the  newly  discovered  "  ploughman-poet." 
The  Edinburgh  Magazine,  IV  (284-288),  in  October,  1786,  gave 
Bums,  a  welcome  that  was  hearty  and  sincere;  though  we  may 
smile  to-day  at  the  information  that  he  has  neither  the  "  doric 
simplicity "  of  Ramsay,  nor  the  "  brilliant  imagination "  of 
Ferguson.  Besides  the  poems  mentioned  in  brackets,  the  maga- 
zine published  further  extracts  from  Burns  in  subsequent  num- 
bers. The  Critical  Review,  LXIII  (387-388),  gave  the  volume  a 
belated  notice  in  May,  1787,  exceeding  even  the  Scotch  magazine 
in  its  generous  appreciation.  With  the  generally  accepted  fact 
in  mind  that  all  of  Burns'  enduring  work  is  in  the  Scottish 
dialect,  and  that  his  English  poems  are  comparatively  inferior, 
it  is  interesting  to  note  the  Critical  Revleiv's  regret  that  the  dialect 
must  "  obscure  the  native  beauties  "  and  be  often  unintelligible  to 
English  readers.  The  same  sentiment  was  expressed  by  the 
Monthly  Review,  LXXV,  p.  439,  in  the  critique  reprinted  (without 
its  curious  anglified  version  of  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night)  in 
Stevenson's  Early  Reviews. 

There  is  perhaps  no  other  English  poet  whose  fame  was  so  sud- 
denly and  securely  established  as  Bums'.  At  no  time  since  the 
appearance  of  the  Kilmarnock  volume  has  the  worth  of  his  lyrical 
achievement  been  seriously  questioned.  The  Reliqucs  of  Burns, 
edited  by  Dr.  Cromek  in  1808,  were  reviewed  by  Walter  Scott  in 


200  NOTES 

the  first  number  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  and  by  Jeffrey  in  the 
corresponding  number  of  the  Edinburgh.  Both  articles  are  valu- 
able to  the  student  of  Burns,  but  their  great  length  made  their 
inclusion  in  the  present  volume  impracticable. 

14.  Rusticus  abnormis  sapiens,  etc.    Horace,  Sat.  II,  1.  3. 

15.  A  great  lady  .  .  .  and  celebrated  professor.    Evidently  Mrs. 

Dunlop  and  Professor  Dugald  Stewart,  who  both  took  great 
interest  in  Burns  after  the  appearance  of  the  Kilmarnock 
volume. 

William  Wordsworth 

The  thin  quartos  containing  An  Evening  Walk  and  Descriptive 
Sketches  were  published  by  Wordsworth  in  1793.  The  former 
was  practically  a  school-composition  in  verse,  written  between 
1787-89  and  dedicated  to  his  sister;  the  latter  was  composed  in 
France  during  1791-92  and  was  revised  shortly  before  publication. 
The  dedication  was  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Robert  Jones,  fellow 
of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  who  was  Wordsworth's  com- 
panion during  the  pedestrian  tour  in  the  Alps.  Though  An 
Evening  Walk  was  published  first,  the  Monthly  Review,  XII,  n.  s. 
(216-^18),  in  October,  1793,  noticed  both  in  the  same  issue  and 
naturally  gave  precedence  to  the  longer  poem.  Specific  allusions 
in  the  text  necessitate  the  same  order  in  the  present  reprint. 

The  impatience  of  the  reviewer  at  the  prospect  of  "  more  de- 
scriptive poetry  "  was  due  to  the  fact  that  many  such  productions 
had  recently  been  noticed  by  the  Monthly,  and  that  the  volumes 
then  under  consideration  evidently  belonged  to  the  broad  stream 
of  mediocre  verse  that  had  been  flowing  soberly  along  almost 
since  the  days  of  Thomson.  These  first  attempts  smacked  so 
decidedly  of  the  older  manner  that  we  cannot  censure  the  critic 
for  failing  to  foresee  that  Wordsworth  was  destined  to  glorify 
the  "  poetry  of  nature,"  and  to  rescue  it  from  the  rut  of  listless 
and  soporific  topographical  description.  Both  poems,  in  the  defini- 
tive text,  are  readable,  and  exhibit  here  and  there  a  glimmer  of 
the  poet's  future  greatness ;  yet  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
Wordsworth  was  continually  tinkering  at  his  verse,  to  the  subse- 
quent despair  of  conscientious  variorum  editors,  and  that  most 
of  the  absurdities  and  infelicities  in  his  first  editions  disappeared 
under  the  correcting  influence  of  his  sarcastic  critics  and  his  own 
maturing  taste. 


NOTES  20 1 

A  collation  of  the  accepted  text  with  the  Monthly  Review's  quo- 
tations will  repay  the  student;  thus,  the  twelve  opening  lines 
quoted  by  the  reviewer  are  represented  by  eight  lines  in  Professor 
Knight's  edition,  and  only  four  of  these  correspond  to  the  original 
text.  The  reviewer  confined  his  remarks  to  the  first  thirty  lines 
of  the  poem  and  very  properly  neglected  the  rest.  He  followed, 
with  moderate  success,  the  method  of  quotation  with  interpolated 
sarcasm  and  badinage — a  method  that  was  afterwards  effectively 
pursued  by  the  early  Edinburgh  Reviewers  and  the  Blackwood 
coterie.  There  are  few  examples  of  that  style  in  the  eighteenth 
century  reviews,  but  some  noteworthy  specimens  of  a  later  period 
— e.  g.,  the  Edinburgh  Review  on  Coleridge's  Christabel  and  the 
Quarterly  on  Tennyson's  Poems — are  reprinted  in  this  volume. 

The  review  of  An  Evening  Walk  is  simply  an  appended  para- 
graph to  the  previous  article.  Wordsworth  evidently  appreciated 
the  advice  conveyed  in  the  reviewer's  final  sentence  and  found 
many  of  the  lines  that  "  called  loudly  for  amendment."  More 
favorable  notices  of  both  poems  will  be  found  in  Critical  Review, 
VIII,  pp.  347  and  472. 

Lyrical  Ballads 

The  Lyrical  Ballads  by  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  were  pub- 
lished anonymously  early  in  September,  1798 — a  few  days  before 
the  joint  authors  sailed  for  Germany.  Coleridge's  contributions 
were  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner,  The  Foster-Mother's 
Tale,  The  Nightingale,  and  The  Dungeon;  the  remaining  nineteen 
poems  were  by  Wordsworth.  As  the  publication  of  this  volume 
has  been  accepted  by  most  critics  as  the  first  fruit  of  the  new 
romantic  spirit  and  the  virtual  beginning  of  modern  English 
poetry,  the  reception  accorded  to  the  Lyrical  Ballads  becomes  a 
matter  of  prime  importance.  It  is  well  known  that  the  effort  was 
a  failure  at  first  and  that  the  apparent  triumph  of  romanticism 
did  not  occur  until  the  publication  of  Scott's  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel  (1805)  ;  but  a  contemporary  blindness  to  the  beauty  of 
two  of  the  finest  poems  in  English  literature  cannot  be  permitted 
to  figure  in  the  critics'  dispassionate  investigation  of  causes  and 
influences. 

There  were  four  interesting  reviews  of  the  first  edition  of  the 
Lyrical  Ballads,  namely,  (i)  Critical  Rev.,  XXIV,  n.  s.  (197- 
204),  in  October,  1798,  which  is  reprinted  here;    (2)   Analytical 


202  NOTES 

Rev.,  XXVIII  .(583-587),  in  December,  1798;  (3)  Monthly  Rev., 
XXIX,  n.  s.  (202-210),  in  May,  1799,  reprinted  in  Stevenson's 
Early  Reviews;   (4)   British  Critic,  XIV   (364-369)   in  October, 

1799. 

The  article  in  the  Critical  Review  was  written  by  Robert 
Southey  under  conditions  most  favorable  for  such  a  malicious 
procedure.  The  publisher,  his  friend  Cottle,  had  transferred 
the  copyright  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads  to  Arch,  a  London  publisher, 
within  two  weeks  of  the  appearance  of  the  volume,  giving  as  a 
shallow  excuse  the  "  heavy  sale  "  of  the  book.  Both  Wordsworth 
and  Coleridge  were  in  Germany.  Southey  had  quarreled  with 
Coleridge,  and  was  probably  jealous  of  the  latter's  extravagant 
praise  of  Wordsworth.  He  accordingly  seized  the  opportunity 
to  assail  the  work  without  injuring  Cottle's  interests  or  entailing 
the  immediate  displeasure  of  the  travelling  bards. 

He  covered  his  tracks  to  some  extent  by  referring  several  times 
to  "the  author,"  although  the  joint  authorship  was  well  known 
to  him.  While  severe  in  most  of  his  strictures  on  Wordsworth, 
Southey  reserved  his  special  malice  for  The  Ancient  Mariner. 
He  called  it  "  a  Dutch  attempt  at  German  sublimity " ;  and  in  a 
letter  written  to  William  Taylor  on  September  5,  1798 — probably 
while  he  was  writing  his  discreditable  critique — he  characterized 
the  poem  as  "  the  clumsiest  attempt  at  German  sublimity  I  ever 
saw."  Southey's  responsibility  for  the  article  became  known  to 
Cottle,  who  communicated  the  fact  to  the  poets  on  their  return 
a  year  later.  Wordsworth  declared  that  "  if  Southey  could  not 
conscientiously  have  spoken  differently  of  the  volume,  he  ought 
to  have  declined  the  task  of  reviewing  it."  Coleridge  indited  an 
epigram.  To  a  Critic,  and  let  the  matter  drop.  Shortly  afterwards 
he  showed  his  renewed  good-will  by  aiding  Southey  in  preparing 
the  second  Annual  Anthology  (1800). 

The  subsequent  reviews  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads  adopted  the  tone 
of  the  Critical  (then  recognized  as  the  leading  review)  and  in- 
ternal evidence  shows  that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  borrow  ideas 
from  Southey's  article.  The  Analytical  Review  also  saw  German 
extravagances  in  The  Ancient  Mariner;  the  Monthly  borrowed 
Southey's  figure  of  the  Italian  and  Flemish  painters,  and  called 
The  Ancient  Mariner  "the  strangest  story  of  a  cock  and  bull 
that  we  ever  saw  on  paper  ...  a  rhapsody  of  unintelligible  wild- 
ness  and  incoherence."    The  belated  review  in  the  British  Critic 


NOTES  203 

was  probably  written  by  Coleridge's  friend,  Rev.  Francis  Wrang 
ham,  and  was  somewhat  more  appreciative  than  the  rest.  For 
further  details,  consult  Mr.  Thomas  Hutchinson's  reprint  (1898) 
of  the  Lyrical  Ballads,  pp.  (xiii-xxviii).  Despite  the  unfavorable 
reviews,  the  Ballads  reached  a  fourth  edition  in  1805  (besides  an 
American  edition  in  1802),  thus  achieving  the  popularity  alluded 
to  by  Jeffrey  at  the  beginning  of  our  next  review. 

Poems  (1807) 

Wordsworth's  fourth  publication,  the  Poems  (1807),  included 
most  of  the  pieces  written  after  the  first  appearance  of  the 
Lyrical  Ballads.  It  was  likewise  his  first  venture  subsequent  to 
the  founding  of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  Jeffrey  had  assailed  the 
theories  of  the  "  Lake  Poets "  (and,  incidentally,  coined  that 
unfortunate  term)  in  the  first  number  of  the  Review,  in  an  article 
on  Southey's  Thalaba,  and  three  years  later  (1805),  in  criticizing 
Madoc,  he  again  expressed  his  views  on  the  subject.  Now  came 
the  first  opportunity  to  deal  with  the  recognized  leader  of  the 
"  Lakers  " — the  poet  whose  work  most  clearly  illustrated  the  poetic 
theories  that  Jeffrey  deemed  pernicious. 

The  article  here  reprinted  from  the  Edinburgh  Rev.,  XI  (214- 
231),  of  October,  1807,  and  Jeffrey's  review  of  The  Excursion,  in 
ibid.,  XXIV  (1-30)',  are  perhaps  the  two  most  important  critiques 
of  their  kind.  No  student  of  Wordsworth's  theory  of  poetry,  as 
set  forth  in  his  various  prefaces,  can  afford  to  ignore  either  of 
these  interesting  discussions  of  the  subject.  (For  details,  see  A. 
J.  George's  edition  of  the  Prefaces  of  Wordsworth,  Gates'  Selec- 
tions from  Jeffrey,  Beers'  Nineteenth  Century  Romanticism, 
Hutchinson's  edition  of  Lyrical  Ballads,  etc.)  It  was  undoubtedly 
true  that  Jeffrey,  although  an  able  critic,  failed  to  grasp  the  real 
significance  of  the  new  poetic  movement,  and  to  appreciate  the 
influence  wrought  by  the  doctrines  of  the  Lake  Poets  on  modern 
conceptions  of  poetry.  Yet  he  was  far  from  wrong  in  many  of  his 
criticisms  of  Wordsworth.  While  deprecating  the  latter's 
theories,  it  is  clear  that  Jeffrey  regarded  him  as  a  poet  of  great 
power  who  was  being  led  astray  by  his  perverse  practice.  The 
popular  conception  of  Jeffrey  as  a  hectoring  and  blatant  opponent 
of  Wordsworth  is  not  substantiated  by  the  review.  The  impartial 
reader  must  agree  with  Jeffrey  at  many  points,  and  if  he  will  take 
the  trouble  to  collate  Jeffrey's  quotations  with  the  revised  text 


204  NOTES 

of  Wordsworth,  he  will  learn  that  the  poet  did  not  disdain  to  take 
an  occasional  suggestion  for  the  improvement  of  his  verse. 

We  recognize  Wordsworth  to-day  as  the  most  unequal  of 
English  poets.  There  is  little  that  is  common  to  the  inspired 
bard  of  Tintern  Abbey,  the  Immortality  Ode  and  the  nobler 
Sonnets,  and  the  unsophisticated  scribe  of  Peter  Bell  and 
The  Idiot  Boy.  Like  Browning,  he  wrote  too  much  to  write  well 
at  all  times,  and  if  both  poets  were  capable  of  the  sublimest  flights, 
they  likewise  descended  to  unimagined  depths;  but  the  fault  of 
Wordsworth  was  perhaps  the  greater,  because  his  bathos  was  the 
result  of  a  deliberate  and  persistent  attempt  to  enrich  English 
poetry  with  prosaically  versified  incidents  drawn  at  length  from 
homely  rural  life. 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 

The  first  part  of  Coleridge's  Christabel  was  written  in  1797  dur- 
ing the  brief  period  of  inspiration  that  also  gave  us  The  Ancient 
Mariner  and  Kiibla  Khan — in  short,  that  small  group  of  ex- 
quisite poems  which  in  themselves  suffice  to  place  Coleridge  in  the 
front  rank  of  English  poets.  The  second  part  was  written  in 
1800,  after  the  author's  return  from  Germany.  The  fragment 
circulated  widely  in  manuscript  among  literary  men,  bewitched 
Scott  and  Byron  into  imitating  its  fascinating  rhythms,  and,  at 
Byron's  suggestion,  was  finally  published  by  Murray  in  1816  with 
Kubla  Khan  and  The  Pains  of  Sleep.  It  is  probable  that  the  high 
esteem  in  which  these  poems  were  held  by  Coleridge's  literary 
friends  led  him  to  expect  a  favorable  reception  at  the  hands  of 
the  critics ;  hence  his  keen  disappointment  at  the  general  tone  of 
their  sarcastic  analysis  and  their  protests  against  the  absurdity 
and  obscurity  of  the  poems.  The  principal  critiques  on  Christabel 
were: — (i)  Edinburgh  Rev.,  XXVII  (58-67),  which  is  here  re- 
printed; (2)  Monthly  Rev.,  LXXXII,  n.  s.  (22-25),  reprinted  in 
Stevenson's  Early  Reviews;  (3)  The  Literary  Panorama,  IV,  n.  s. 
(561-565)  ;  and  (4)  Anti-Iacobin  Rev.,  L  (62,2-62>^). 

It  is  evident  that  Coleridge  was  eminently  successful  in  the 
gentle  art  of  making  enemies.  We  have  seen  that  Southey's 
attack  on  the  Lyrical  Ballads  was  a  direct  result  of  his  ill-will 
toward  Coleridge ;  the  outrageous  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view was  written  by  William  Hazlitt  under  similar  inspiration, 
and  was  followed  by  abusive  papers  in  The  Examiner  (1816,  p. 


NOTES  205 

743,  and  1817,  p.  236).  There  was  no  justification  for  Hazlitt, 
and  none  has  been  attempted  by  his  biographers.  Judged  by  its 
intrinsic  merits,  the  Edinburgh  article  is  one  of  the  most  absurd 
reviews  ever  written  by  a  critic  of  recognized  ability,  Hazlitt 
followed  the  method  of  outlining  the  story  by  quotation  with  in- 
terspersed sarcasm  and  ironical  criticism.  As  a  coarse  boor 
might  crumple  a  delicate  and  beautifully  wrought  fabric  to  prove 
that  it  has  not  the  wearing  qualities  of  a  blacksmith's  apron, 
Hazlitt  seized  upon  the  ethereal  story  of  Christabel,  with  its 
wealth  of  mediaeval  and  romantic  imagery,  and  held  up  to  ridicule 
the  incidents  that  did  not  conform  to  modern  English  conceptions 
of  life.  It  requires  no  great  art  to  produce  such  a  critique;  the 
sam.e  method  was  applied  to  Christabel  with  hardly  less  success 
by  the  anonymous  hack  of  the  Anti-Jacobin.  Whatever  may  have 
been  Hazlitt's  motives,  we  cannot  understand  how  a  critic  of  his 
unquestioned  ability  could  quote  with  ridicule  some  of  the  very 
finest  lines  of  Kubla  Khan,  and  expect  his  readers  to  concur  with 
his  opinion.  The  lack  of  taste  was  more  apparent  because  he 
quoted,  with  qualified  praise,  six  lines  of  no  extraordinary  merit 
from  Christabel  and  insisted,  that  with  this  one  exception,  there 
was  not  a  couplet  in  the  whole  poem  that  achieved  the  standard  of 
a  newspaper  poetry-corner  or  the  effusions  scratched  by  peri- 
patetic bards  on  inn-windows.  An  interesting  discussion  be- 
tween Mr.  Thomas  Hutchinson  and  Col.  Prideaux  concerning 
Hazlitt's  responsibility  for  this  and  other  critiques  on  Coleridge 
in  the  Edinburgh  Review  will  be  found  in  Notes  and  Queries 
(Ninth  Series),  X,  pp.  388,  429;  XI,  170,  269. 

The  other  reviews  of  Christabel  were  all  unfavorable.  Most 
extravagant  was  the  utterance  of  the  Monthly  Magazine,  XLVI, 
p.  407,  in  1818,  when  it  declared  that  the  "  poem  of  Christabel  is 
only  fit  for  the  inmates  of  Bedlam.  We  are  not  acquainted  in  the 
history  of  literature  with  so  great  an  insult  offered  to  the  public 
understanding  as  the  publication  of  that  r[h]apsody  of  delirium." 

Hazlitt's  primitive  remarks  on  the  metre  of  Christabel  are  of 
little  interest.  Coleridge  was,  of  course,  wrong  in  stating  that 
his  metre  was  founded  on  a  new  principle.  The  irregularly 
four-stressed  line  occurs  in  Spenser's  Shepherd's  Calender  and 
can  be  traced  back  through  the  halting  tetrameters  of  Skelton. 
Coleridge  himself  alludes  to  this  fact  in  his  note  to  his  poem 
The  Raven,  and  elsewhere. 


2o6  NOTES 

Coleridge's  earlier  poetical  publications  were  received  with  com- 
monplace critiques  usually  mildly  favorable.  For  reviews  of  his 
Poems  (1796)  see  Monthly  Rev.,  XX,  n.  s.,  p.  194;  Analytical 
Rev.,  XXIII,  p.  610;  British  Critic,  VII,  p.  549;  and  Critical 
Rev.,  XVII,  n.  s.,  p.  209;  the  second  edition  of  Poems  (i797)  is 
noticed  in  Critical  Rev.,  XXIII,  n.  s.,  p.  266;  for  Lyrical  Ballads, 
see  under  Wordsworth;  for  the  successful  play  Remorse  (1813), 
see  Monthly  Rev.,  LXXI,  n.  s.,  p.  82,  and  Quarterly  Rev.,  XI, 
p.  177. 

Robert  Southey 

Madoc,  a  ponderous  quarto  of  over  five  hundred  pages  and 
issued  at  two  guineas,  was  published  by  Southey  in  1805  as  the 
second  of  that  long-forgotten  series  of  interminable  epics  includ- 
ing Thalaha,  The  Curse  of  Kehama,  and  Roderick,  Last  of  the 
Goths.  These  huge  unformed  productions  were  not  poems,  but 
metrical  tales,  written  in  a  kind  of  verse  that  could  have  flowed 
indefinitely  from  the  author's  pen.  In  short,  Southey  was  not  a 
poet,  and  the  whole  bulk  of  his  efforts  in  verse,  with  but  one  or 
two  exceptions,  seems  destined  to  oblivion.  As  poet-laureate  for 
thirty  years  and  the  associate  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  in  the 
"  Lake  School,"  Southey  will,  however,  remain  a  figure  of  some 
importance  in  the  history  of  English  poetry. 

The  review  of  Madoc  reprinted  from  the  Monthly  Rev.,  XLVIII 
( 1 13-122)  for  October,  1805,  was  written  in  the  old  style  then 
fast  giving  way  to  the  sprightlier  methods  of  the  Edinburgh. 
Here  we  find  a  style  abounding  in  literary  allusions  and  classical 
quotations,  and  evincing  a  generally  patronizing  attitude  toward 
the  author  under  discussion.  Most  readers  will  agree  with  the 
sentiments  expressed  by  the  reviewer,  who  succeeded  in  making 
his  article  interesting  without  descending  to  the  depths  of 
buffoonery.  No  apology  is  necessary  for  the  excision  of  the  re- 
viewer's unreasonably  long  extracts  from  the  poem.  Madoc  was 
also  reviewed  at  great  length  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  by  Francis 
Jeffrey. 
61.  Ille  ego,  qui  quondam,  etc.     The  lines  usually  prefixed  to  the 

Mneid. 
61.  Prorumpere  in  medias  res.     Cf.  Horace,  Ars  Poetica,  1.  148. 
61.  Macklin's  Tragedy.     Henry  VII  (1746),  his  only  tragedy,  and 

a  failure. 
61.  Toto  carere  possum.     Cf.  Martial,  Epig.  XI,  56. 


NOTES  207 

61.  Camohis.    The  author  of  the  Portuguese  Lusiad  (1572)  which 

narrates  the  adventures  of  Vasco  da  Gama. 

62.  Milton.     Quoted  from  Sonnet  XI. — On  the  Detraction  which 

followed  upon  my  writing  certaiti  Treatises. 
6i.  Snatching  a  grace,  etc.     Pope's  Essay  on  Criticism,  1.  153. 

Charles  Lamb 

Most  of  Lamb's  earlier  poetical  productions  appeared  in  con- 
junction with  the  work  of  other  poets.  Four  of  his  sonnets  were 
printed  with  Coleridge's  Poems  on  Various  Subjects  (1796),  and 
he  was  more  fully  represented  in  Poems  by  S.  T.  Coleridge. 
Second  Edition.  To  which  are  now  added  Poems  by  Charles 
Lamb  and  Charles  Lloyd  (1797).  In  the  following  year  appeared 
Blank  Verse,  by  Charles  Lloyd  and  Charles  Lamb.  For  new  and 
interesting  material  concerning  the  three  poets,  see  E.  V.  Lucas' 
Charles  Lamb  and  the  Lloyds  (1899).  Lloyd  (1775-1839)  wrote 
melancholy  verses  and  a  sentimental,  epistolary  novel  Edmund 
Oliver,  but  nothing  of  permanent  value.  However,  in  1798,  he  was 
almost  as  well  known  as  Coleridge,  and  was  hailed  in  some 
quarters  as  a  promising  poet. 

The  Monthly  Rev.,  XXVII,  n.  s.  (104-105),  in  September,  1798, 
published  the  critique  of  Blank  Verse  which  is  here  reprinted. 
Its  principal  interest  lies  in  the  scant  attention  shown  to  Lamb, 
although  the  volume  contained  his  best  poem — the  tender  Old 
Familiar  Faces.  Dr.  Johnson's  characterization  of  blank-verse 
as  "  poetry  to  the  eye  "  will  be  found  at  the  end  of  his  Life  of 
Milton  as  a  quotation  from  "  an  ingenious  critic." 

Lamb's  drama,  John  Woodvil  (1802),  written  in  imitation  of 
later  Elizabethan  models,  was  a  failure.  It  was  unfavorably 
noticed  in  the  Monthly  Rev.,  XL,  n.  s.,  p.  442  and  at  greater  length 
in  the  Edinburgh  Rev.,  II,  p.  go  flf. 

Many  years  later  (1830)  Lamb  prepared  his  collection  of 
Album-Verses  at  the  request  of  his  friend  Edward  Moxon,  who 
had  achieved  some  fame  as  a  poet  and  was  enabled  (by  the  gen- 
erous aid  of  Samuel  Rogers)  to  begin  his  more  lucrative  career 
as  a  publisher.  Three  years  after  the  appearance  of  Album- 
Verses,  he  married  Lamb's  adopted  daughter,  Emma  Isola.  The 
Album-Verses,  like  most  of  their  kind,  were  a  collection  of  small 
value;  the  Literary  Gazette,  1830  (441-442),  consequently  lost  no 
time   in   assailing  them.     The   Athenccum,    1830,   p.   435,  at   that 


2o8  NOTES 

time  the  bitter  rival  of  the  Gazette,  published  a  more  favorable 
review,  and  a  few  weeks  later  (p.  491)  printed  Southey's  verses, 
To  Charles  Lamb,  on  the  Reviewal  of  his  Album-Verses  in  the 
Literary  Gazette,  together  with  a  sharp  commentary  on  the 
methods  of  the  Gazette.  Several  times  during  that  year  the 
Athenautn  assailed  the  system  of  private  puffery  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  Gazette  and  eventually  caused  its  downfall.  There 
is  a  reply  to  the  Athenceum  in  the  Literary  Gazette,  1833,  p.  772. 

Walter  Savage  Landor 

Landor  was  twenty-three  when  he  published  Gebir  anonymously 
in  1798 — the  year  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads — and  he  lived  until  1864, 
The  nine  decades  of  his  life  covered  an  important  period  of 
literature.  He  was  nine  years  old  when  the  great  Johnson  died, 
yet  he  lived  to  see  the  best  poetic  achievements  of  Tennyson, 
Browning,  and  Arnold.  However,  he  did  not  live  to  see  Gebir 
a  popular  poem.  Southey  gave  it  a  favorable  welcome  in  the 
Critical  Review,  and  became  a  life-long  admirer  of  Landor;  but 
our  brief  notices  reprinted  from  the  Monthly  Rev.,  XXXI,  n.  s., 
p.  206,  and  British  Critic,  XV,  p.  igo  of  February,  1800,  represent 
more  nearly  the  popular  verdict.  Both  reviewers  complain  of  the 
obscurity  of  the  poem,  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been 
originally  written  in  Latin,  then  translated  and  abridged.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  Landor  declared  himself  amply  repaid 
by  the  praise  of  a  few  appreciative  readers,  he  prepared  a  violent 
and  scornful  reply  to  the  Monthly  Review,  and  would  have  pub- 
lished it  but  for  the  sensible  dissuasion  of  a  friend.  Some  in- 
teresting extracts  from  the  letter  are  printed  in  Forster's  Life 
of  Landor,  pp.  (76-85).  He  protested  especially  against  the  im- 
puted plagiarisms  from  Milton  and  gave  ample  evidence  of  the 
pugnacious  spirit  that  brought  him  into  difficulties  several  times 
during  his  life.  See  also  the  Imaginary  Conversation  between 
Archdeacon  Hare  and  Walter  Landor,  wherein  the  reception  of 
Gebir  is  discussed  and  Southey's  poetry  is  praised  at  the  expense 
of  Wordsworth's.  Landor's  first  publication,  the  Poems  (i79S) 
was  noticed  in  the  Monthly  Rev.,  XXI,  n.  s.,  p.  253. 

Sir  Walter  Scott 

The  successful  series  of  metrical  tales  which  Scott  inaugurated 
with  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel   (1805)    had  for  its  second 


NOTES  209 

member  the  more  elaborate  Marmion  (1808).  From  the  first, 
Scott's  poems  and  romances  were  favorably  received  by  the  re- 
views and  usually  noticed  at  great  length.  There  was  always  a 
story  to  outline  and  choice  passages  to  quote.  As  suggested  in 
the  Preface,  these  pseans  of  praise  are  of  comparatively  little 
interest  to  the  student,  and  need  hardly  be  cited  here  in  detail. 

The  critique  of  Marmion,  written  by  Jeffrey  for  the  Edinburgh 
Rev.,  XII  (1-35),  had  the  place  of  honor  in  the  number  for 
April,  1808.  It  was  chosen  for  the  present  reprints  partly  as  a 
fitting  example  of  Jeffrey's  fearlessness  in  expressing  his  opinions, 
and  partly  for  its  historic  interest  as  the  article  that  contributed 
to  Scott's  rupture  with  the  Edinburghers  and  to  his  successful 
founding  of  a  Tory  rival  in  the  Quarterly  Review.  Although  the 
article  has  here  been  abridged  to  about  half  of  its  original  length 
by  the  omission  of  six  hundred  quoted  lines  and  a  synopsis  of  the 
poem,  it  is  still  the  longest  of  these  reprints.  Jeffrey  evidently 
felt  that  a  detailed  account  of  the  story  was  necessary  in  order  to 
justify  his  strictures  on  the  plot. 

An  author  of  those  days  could  afford  to  ignore  the  decisions  of 
the  critical  monthlies,  but  the  brilliant  criticism  and  incisive  dic- 
tion of  the  Edinburgh  Review  carried  weight  and  exerted  far- 
reaching  influence.  Jeffrey's  article  was  practically  the  only 
dissonant  note  in  the  chorus  of  praise  that  greeted  Marmion,  and 
Scott  probably  resented  the  critic's  attitude.  Lockhart,  in  his 
admirable  chapter  on  the  publication  of  Marmion,  admits  that 
"Jeffrey  acquitted  himself  on  this  occasion  in  a  manner  highly 
creditable  to  his  courageous  sense  of  duty."  The  April  number 
of  the  Edinburgh  appeared  shortly  before  a  particular  day  on 
which  Jeffrey  had  engaged  to  dine  with  Scott.  Fearing  that 
under  the  circumstances  he  might  be  an  unwelcome  guest,  he  sent 
the  following  tactful  note  with  the  copy  which  was  forwarded 
to  the  poet: — 

"Dear  Scott,— If  I  did  not  give  you  credit  for  more  mag- 
nanimity than  any  other  of  your  irritable  tribe,  I  should  scarcely 
venture  to  put  this  into  your  hands.  As  it  is,  I  do  it  with  no 
little  solicitude,  and  earnestly  hope  that  it  will  make  no  difference 
in  the  friendship  which  has  hitherto  subsisted  between  us.  I 
have  spoken  of  your  poem  exactly  as  I  think,  and  though  I  cannot 
reasonably  suppose  that  you  will  be  pleased  with  everything  I 
have  said,  it  would  mortify  me  very  severely  to  believe  I  had 

17 


2IO  NOTES 

given  you  pain.  If  you  have  any  amity  left  for  me,  you  will  not 
delay  very  long  to  tell  me  so.  In  the  meantime,  I  am  very 
sincerely  yours,   F.   Jeffrey." 

There  was  but  one  course  open  to  Scott ;  accordingly  to  Lock- 
hart,  "he  assured  Mr,  Jeffrey  that  the  article  had  not  disturbed 
his  digestion,  though  he  hoped  neither  his  booksellers  nor  the 
public  would  agree  with  the  opinions  it  expressed,  and  begged  he 
would  come  to  dinner  at  the  hour  previously  appointed.  Mr. 
Jeffrey  appeared  accordingly,  and  was  received  by  his  host  with 
the  frankest  cordiality,  but  had  the  mortification  to  observe  that 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  though  perfectly  polite,  was  not  quite 
so  easy  with  him  as  usual.  She,  too,  behaved  herself  with  ex- 
emplary civility  during  the  dinner,  but  could  not  help  saying,  in 
her  broken  English,  when  her  guest  was  departing,  '  Well,  good 
night,  Mr.  Jeffrey.  Dey  tell  me  you  have  abused  Scott  in  de 
Review,  and  I  hope  Mr.  Constable  has  paid  you  very  well  for 
writing  it.' " 

Jeffrey's  article  apparently  had  little  influence  on  the  sale  of 
Marmion,  which  reached  eight  editions  (25,000  copies)  in  three 
years.  In  October,  1808,  the  Edinburgh  Review  published  an 
appreciative  review  of  Scott's  edition  of  Dryden,  and  afterwards 
received  with  favor  the  later  poems  and  the  principal  Waverley 
Novels. 

78.  Mr.  Thomas  Inkle.  The  story  of  Inkle  and  Yarico  was  re- 
lated by  Steele  in  no.  1 1  of  the  Spectator.  It  was  afterwards 
dramatized  (1787)  by  George  Colman. 

Lord  Byron 

The  twentieth  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  contained 
Jeffrey's  long  article  on  Wordsworth's  Poems  (1807)  ;  the  twenty- 
second  contained  his  review  of  Scott's  Marmion;  and  the  twenty- 
first  (January,  1808)  contained  a  still  more  famous  critique,  long 
attributed  to  Jeffrey — the  review  of  Byron's  Hours  of  Idleness 
(1807).  It  is  reprinted  from  Edinburgh  Rev.,  XI  (285-289)  in 
Stevenson's  Early  Reviews  and  forms  Appendix  II  of  R.  E. 
Prothero's  edition  of  Byron's  Letters  and  Journals.  We  know 
definitely  that  the  article  was  written  by  Henry  Brougham.  (See 
Prothero,  op.  cit.,  II,  p.  397,  and  Sir  M.  E.  Grant  Duff's  Notes 
from  a  Diary,  II,  p.  189.) 


NOTES  211 

It  is  hardly  within  the  province  of  literary  criticism  to  deal 
with  hypothetical  conditions  in  authors'  lives;  but  it  is  at  least  a 
matter  of  some  interest  to  conjecture  whether  Byron  would  have 
become  a  great  poet  if  this  stinging  review  had  not  been  pub- 
lished. It  is  evident  that  the  Hours  of  Idleness  gave  few  signs 
of  promise,  and  the  poet,  fully  intent  upon  a  political  career, 
himself  expressed  his  intention  of  abandoning  the  muse.  Many 
an  educated  Englishman  has  published  such  a  volume  of  Juvenilia 
and  sinned  no  more.  But  a  nature  like  Byron's  could  not  over- 
look the  effrontery  of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  The  proud- 
spirited poet  was  evidently  far  more  incensed  by  the  patronizing 
tone  of  the  article  than  by  its  strictures:  what  could  be  more 
galling  than  the  reiterated  references  to  the  "  noble  minor,"  or  the 
withering  contempt  that  characterized  a  particular  poem  as  "the 
thing  in  page  79  "  ?  Many  years  later,  Byron  wrote  to  Shelley : — 
"  I  recollect  the  effect  on  me  of  the  Edinburgh  on  my  first  poem ; 
it  was  rage,  and  resistance,  and  redress — but  not  despondency  nor 
despair."     (Prothero,  V,  p.  267.) 

There  was  method  in  Byron's  "  rage  and  resistance  and  redress," 
For  more  than  a  year  he  labored  upon  a  satire  which  he  had 
begun  even  before  the  appearance  of  the  Edinburgh  article.  (See 
letter  of  October  26,  1807,  in  Letters,  ed.  Prothero,  I,  p.  I47-)  In 
the  spring  of  1809,  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  was 
given  anonymously  to  the  world.  The  publication  of  this  vigor- 
ous satire  virtually  decided  Byron's  career.  Not  only  did  he 
abuse  Jeffrey,  whom  he  believed  responsible  for  the  offending 
critique,  but  he  flung  defiance  in  the  face  of  almost  all  his  literary 
contemporaries.  The  authorship  of  the  satire  was  soon  apparent, 
and  in  a  flippant  note  to  the  second  edition,  Byron  became  still 
more  abusive  toward  Jeffrey  and  his  "dirty  pack,"  and  declared 
that  he  was  ready  to  give  satisfaction  to  all  who  sought  it.  A 
few  years  later  he  regretted  his  rashness  in  assailing  the  authors 
of  his  time.  He  also  learned  of  the  injustice  done  to  Jeffrey  and 
had  ample  reason  to  feel  embarrassed  by  the  tone  of  the  eight 
reviews  of  his  poems  that  Jeffrey  did  write  for  the  Edinburgh. 
(See  the  list  in  Prothero,  II,  p.  248.)  In  Don  Juan  (canto  X, 
xvi),  he  made  the  following  retraction: — 

"And  all  our  little  feuds,  at  least  all  mine, 
Dear  Jeffrey,  once  my  most  redoubted  foe 
(As  far  as  rhyme  and  criticism  combine 
To  make  such  puppets  of  us  things  below). 


212  NOTES 

Are  over.     Here's  a  health  to  '  Auld  Lang  Syne !' 

I  do  not  know  you,  and  may  never  know 
Your  face — but  you  have  acted,  on  the  whole, 
Most  nobly;  and  I  own  it  from  my  soul." 

The  other  reviews  of  Hours  of  Idleness  are  of  little  interest. 
The  Monthly  and  the  Critical  both  praised  the  book ;  the  Literary 
Panorama,  III,  p.  273,  said  the  author  was  no  imbecile,  but  an 
incautious  writer. 
98.  ^e2o  leyEiv, — Anacreon,  Ode  I.    (l^tAu  Myeiv  'ArpEidaq,  «.  r.  1.) 
98.  fieaovvKTioiq,  ttoO'  bpatq. — Anacreon,  Ode  III.      {/neaovvKTioig  nod' 
upaig,  K.  T.  Ti.) 
100.  Sane  ho  y—Sancho   Panza  in  Don   Quixote.     The  proverb   is 
of  ancient  origin.     See  French,  Latin,  Italian  and  Spanish 
forms  in  Brewer's  Dictionary  of  Phrase  and  Fable. 

Child e  Harold 

Shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  second  edition  of  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  Byron  left  England  and  travelled 
through  the  East,  at  the  same  time  leisurely  composing  the  first 
two  cantos  of  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage.  Their  publication  in 
1812  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  popular  poets  of  the  day. 
Henceforth  the  reviews  gave  extensive  notices  to  all  his  pro- 
ductions. (For  references,  see  J.  P.  Anderson's  bibliography 
appended  to  Hon.  Roden  Noel's  Life  of  Byron.)  Childe  Harold 
was  reviewed  in  the  Edinburgh  Rev.,  XIX  (466-477),  by  Jeffrey; 
in  the  Quarterly,  VII  (180-200),  by  George  Ellis;  in  the  British 
Review,  III  (275-302)  ;  and  Eclectic  Review,  XV  (630-641). 

The  article  here  reprinted  from  the  Christian  Observer,  XI 
(376-386),  of  June,  1812,  is  of  special  interest  as  an  early  protest 
from  conservative,  religious  circles  against  the  immoral  and 
irreverent  tone  of  Byron's  poetry.  As  literary  criticism,  it  is 
almost  worthless,  in  spite  of  the  elaborate  allusions  and  quota- 
tions with  which  the  critic— evidently  a  survivor  of  the  old  school 
—has  interlarded  his  remarks.  Little  can  be  said  in  defense  of  an 
article  which  insists  that  the  chief  end  of  poetry  is  to  be  agreeably 
didactic  and  which  (in  1812)  cites  Southey  as  the  greatest  of 
living  poets.  However,  it  probably  represents  the  attitude  of  a 
large  number  of  worthy  people  of  the  time,  who  recognized  that 
Byron  had  genius,  and  wished  to  see  him  exercise  his  powers 


NOTES  213 

with  due  regard  for  the  proprieties  of  civilized  life.  As  Byron's 
offences  grew  more  flagrant  in  his  later  poems,  the  criticisms  in 
the  conservative  reviews  became  more  vehement.  For  Byron's 
controversy  with  the  British  Review,  which  he  facetiously 
dubbed  "  my  grandmother's  review  "  in  Don  Juan,  see  Prothero, 
IV,  pp.  (346-347)  >  and  Appendix  VII.  The  ninth  Appendix  to 
the  same  volume  is  Byron's  caustic  reply  to  the  brutal  review  of 
Don  Juan  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  V,  p.  512  ff. 
loi.  Lion  of  the  north.  Francis  Jeffrey.     The  usual  agnomen  of 

Gustavus   Adolphus.     Cf.   Walter  Scott,   the   "Wizard  of 

the  North." 

105.  Faiery  Queen  zvill  not  often  he  read  through.     Hume's  His- 

tory of  England,  Appendix  III. 

106.  Qui,  quid  sit  pulchrum,  etc.     Horace,  Epis.  II  (3-4). 

106.  Rursum — quid  virtus,   etc.     Horace,   Epis.   II    (17-18). 

107.  Our    sage    serious    Spenser,    etc.      Milton's    Areopagitica, 

Works,  ed.  Mitford,  IV,  p.  412. 
107.  Quinctilian.     See  Quintilian,  Book  XII,  Chap.  I. 

107.  Longinus.     On  the  Sublime,  IX,  XIII,  etc. 

108.  Restoration   of  Learning  in   the  East.     A   Cambridge  prize 

poem  (1805)  by  Charles  Grant,  Lord  Glenelg  (1778-1866). 

109.  Thersites.     See  Shakespeare's   Troilus  and  Cressida. 
109.  Caliban.     See  Shakespeare's  The  Tempest. 

109.  Heraclitus.  The  "weeping  philosopher"  (circa  500  B.  C). 
109.  Zeno.  The  founder  (342-270  B.  C.)  of  the  Stoic  School. 
109.  Zoilus.     The  ancient  grammarian  who  assailed  the  works  of 

Homer.     The  epithet  Homeromastix  is  sometimes  applied 

to  him. 
113.  The  philosophic  Tully,  etc.     See  the  concluding  paragraph 

of  Cicero's  De  Senectute. 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  other  poet  was  so  widely  and  so 
continuously  assailed  in  the  reviews  as  Shelley.  Circumstances 
have  made  certain  critiques  on  Byron,  Keats,  and  others  more 
widely  known,  but  nowhere  else  do  we  find  the  persistent  stream 
of  abuse  that  followed  in  the  wake  of  Shelley's  publications.  The 
Blackzvood  articles  were  usually  most  scathing,  and  those  of  the 
Literary  Gazette  were  not  far  behind.  Fortunately,  the  poet  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  Italy  and  thus  remained  in  ignorance  of  the 


214  NOTES 

great  majority  of  these  spiteful  attacks  in  the  less  important 
periodicals. 

Alastor,  which  appeared  in  1816,  attracted  comparatively  little 
attention.  The  tone  of  the  brief  notice  reprinted  from  the 
Monthly  Rev.,  LXXIX,  n.  s.,  p.  433,  shows  that  the  poet  was  as 
yet  unknown  to  the  critics.  Blackwood's  Magazine,  VI  (148- 
154),  gave  a  longer  and,  on  the  whole,  more  favorable  account  of 
the  poem.  In  the  same  year,  Leigh  Hunt  published  his  Story  of 
Rimini,  most  noteworthy  for  its  graceful  rhythmical  structure  in 
the  unrestricted  couplets  of  Chaucer.  This  departure  from  the 
polished  heroics  of  Pope,  which  were  ill-adapted  to  narrative 
subjects  in  spite  of  his  successful  translation  of  Homer,  was 
hailed  with  delight  by  the  younger  poets.  Shelley  imitated  the 
measure  in  his  Julian  and  Maddalo,  and  Keats  did  likewise 
in  Lamia  and  Endymion.  Hunt  was  soon  recognized  by  the 
critics  as  the  leader  of  a  group  of  liberals  whom  they  con- 
veniently classified  as  the  Cockney  School.  Shelley's  ill-treatment 
at  the  hands  of  the  reviewers  dates  from  his  association  with  this 
coterie.  His  Revolt  of  Islam  (1818)  was  assailed  by  John  Taylor 
Coleridge  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  XXI  (460-471).  The  Cenci 
was  condemned  as  a  horrible  literary  monstrosity  by  the  scandal- 
ized critics  of  the  Monthly  Rev.,  XCIV,  n.  s.  (161-168)  ;  the 
Literary  Gazette,  1820  (209-10)  ;  and  the  New  Monthly  Maga- 
zine, XIII  (550-553).  The  review  here  reprinted  from  the  Lon- 
don Mag.,  I  (401-405),  is  comparatively  mild  in  its  censure. 

One  would  naturally  suppose  that  the  death  of  Keats  would 
have  ensured  at  least  a  respectful  consideration  for  Shelley's 
lament,  Adonais  (1821)  ;  but  the  callous  critics  were  by  no  means 
abashed.  The  outrageous  article  in  the  Literary  Gazette  of 
December  8,  1821,  pp.  {772ry72,),  is  one  of  the  unpardonable 
errors  of  literary  criticism;  but  it  sinks  into  insignificance  beside 
the  brutal,  unquotable  review  which  Blackwood's  Magazine  per- 
mitted to  appear  in  its  pages.  In  the  same  year  Shelley's  youthful 
poetical  indiscretion.  Queen  Mab,  which  he  himself  called  "  vil- 
lainous trash,"  was  published  under  circumstances  beyond  his 
control,  and  forthwith  the  readers  of  the  Literary  Gazette  were 
regaled  with  ten  columns  of  foul  abuse  from  the  pen  of  a  critic 
who  declared  that  he  was  driven  almost  speechless  by  the  senti- 
ments expressed  in  the  poem.  Well  could  the  heartless  reviewer 
of  Adonais  write : — "  If  criticism  killed  the  disciples  of  that  [the 


NOTES  215 

Cockney]  school,  Shelley  would  not  have  been  alive  to  write  an 
elegy  on  another." 

115.  Eye  in  a  fine  phrensy  rolling.     Shakespeare's  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream,  V,  i,  12. 

115.  Above  this  visible  diurnal  sphere.    Milton's  Paradise  Lost, 

Book  VII,  22. 

116.  Parca  quod  satis  est  manu.     Horace,  Odes,  III,  16,  24. 

116.  Lord  Fanny.     A  nickname  bestowed  upon  Lord  Hervey,  an 

effeminate  noble  of  the  time  of  George  II. 

117.  0.1  rus,  qiiando  ego  te  aspiciam.     Horace,  Satires,  II,  6,  60. 

117.  Mordecai.     See  Book  of  Esther,  V,  13. 

118.  Last  of  the  Romans.     Mark  Antony  in  Shakespeare's  Julius 

Ccesar,  III,  2,   194. 
120.  Full  fathom  live.     Shakespeare's  The  Tempest,  I,  2,  396. 
126.  Ohe!  jam  satis  est.     Horace,  Satires,  I,  5,  12-13. 
126.  Tristram  Shandy.     The  excommunication  is  in  vol.  Ill,  chap. 

XL 
133-  Put   a   girdle,    etc.     See    Shakespeare's    Midsummer-Night's 

Dream,  II,  i,  175, 

John  Keats 

The  history  of  English  poetry  offers  no  more  interesting  case 
between  poet  and  critic  than  that  of  John  Keats.  The  imputed 
influence  of  a  savage  critique  in  hastening  the  death  of  the  poet 
has  given  the  Quarterly  Review  an  unenviable  notoriety  which 
clings  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  scholars  to  establish  the  truth. 
To  many  students,  Keats,  Endymion,  and  Quarterly  are  prac- 
tically connotative  terms ;  and  this  is  a  direct  result  of  the 
righteous  but  misguided  indignation  of  Shelley — misguided  be- 
cause his  information  was  incomplete  and  the  more  guilty  party 
escaped,  thus  inflicting  upon  the  Quarterly  the  brunt  of  the  oppro- 
brium of  which  far  more  than  half  should  be  accredited  to 
Blackwood's  Magazine. 

Endymion  was  published  in  April,  1818.  One  of  the  pub- 
lishers (Taylor  and  Hessey)  requested  Gifford,  then  editor  of  the 
Quarterly  Review,  to  treat  the  poem  with  indulgence.  This  in- 
discreet move  probably  actuated  Gifford  to  provide  a  severe  criti- 
que; at  any  rate,  in  the  belated  April  number  of  the  Quarterly, 
XIX  (204-208),  which  was  not  issued  until  September,  appeared 
the  famous  review.     A  persistent  error,  which  has  crept  into  W. 


2i6  NOTES 

M.  Rossetti's  Life  of  Keats,  into  Anderson's  bibliography,  and 
even  into  the  article  on  Gifford  in  the  Dictiotiary  of  National 
Biography,  attributes  this  article  to  Gififord  himself;  but  it  is 
known  to  be  the  work  of  John  Wilson  Croker.  (See  the  article 
on  Croker  in  Diet.  Nat.  Biog.  From  the  article  on  John  Murray 
(ibid.)  we  learn  that  Gifford  was  not  wholly  responsible  for  a 
single  article  in  the  Quarterly.) 

Meanwhile,  Blackwood's  Magazine,  III  (519-524)  had  made 
Endymion  the  text  of  its  fourth  infamous  tirade  against  the 
Cockney  School  of  Poetry.  The  signature  "  Z  "  was  appended  to 
all  the  articles,  but  the  critic's  identity  has  not  yet  been  discovered. 
Leigh  Hunt  thought  it  was  Walter  Scott,  Haydon  suspected  the 
actor  Terry,  but  it  is  more  probable  that  the  honor  belongs  to 
John  Gibson  Lockhart.  One  account  attributes  the  entire  series 
to  Lockhart;  another  attributes  the  series  to  Wilson,  but  holds 
Lockhart  responsible  for  the  Endymion  article.  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang,  in  his  Life  and  Letters  of  Lockhart,  dismissed  the  matter  by 
saying  that  he  did  not  know  who  wrote  the  article. 

The  Quarterly  critique  was  reprinted  in  Stevenson's  Early  Re- 
views, in  Rossetti's  Life  of  Keats,  in  Buxton  Forman's  edition  of 
Keats'  Poetical  Works  (Appendix  V)  and  elsewhere.  From  a 
critical  point  of  view,  it  is,  as  Forman  terms  it,  a  "  curiously  un- 
important production."  The  student  will  at  once  question  its 
power  to  cause  distress  in  the  mind  of  the  poet ;  as  for  malignant 
severity,  there  are  several  reviews  among  the  present  reprints  that 
put  the  brief  Quarterly  article  to  shame.  When  we  turn  to  what 
Swinburne  calls  the  "  obscener  insolence "  of  the  Blackwood 
article,  we  find  an  unrestrained  torrent  of  abuse  against  both  Hunt 
and  Keats  that  amply  justified  Landor's  subsequent  allusions  to. 
the  Blackguard's  Magazine.  The  Quarterly  critique  was  captious 
and  ill-tempered ;  but  the  Blackwood  article  was  a  personal  insult. 

It  is  impossible  to  consider  in  detail  the  vexed  question  of  the 
influence  which  these  reviews  had  upon  Keats.  In  Mr.  W.  M. 
Rossetti's  Life  of  Keats,  pp.  (83-106)  there  is  a  full  discussion 
of  the  evidence  on  the  subject.  Within  a  few  months  after  the 
appearance  of  the  articles,  Keats  wrote : — "  Praise  or  blame  has 
but  a  momentary  effect  on  the  man  whose  love  of  beauty  in  the 
abstract  makes  him  a  severe  critic  of  his  own  works.  My  own 
domestic  criticism  has  given  me  pain  without  comparison  beyond 
what  Blackwood  or  The  Quarterly  could  possibly  inflict."  Some 
weeks  later  he  wrote  that  the  Quarterly  article  had  only  served  to 


NOTES  217 

make  him  more  prominent  among  bookmen.  After  some  time 
he  expressed  himself  less  confidently  and  deprecated  the  growing 
power  of  the  reviews,  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  fretted  over 
the  critiques.  Haydon  tells  us  that  Keats  was  morbid  and  silent 
for  hours  at  a  time ;  but  it  is  quite  likely  that  the  consciousness  of 
his  physical  affliction — hereditary  consumption — was  oppressing 
his  mind.  His  death  occurred  on  February  23,  1821 — about  two 
and  a  half  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  Endymion  critiques. 
Shelley  had  gone  to  Italy  before  the  reviews  were  published. 
He  heard  of  the  Quarterly  article,  but  knew  nothing  of  Black- 
wood's while  writing  Adonais;  hence  in  both  poem  and  preface, 
the  former  review  is  charged  with  having  caused  Keats'  death. 
Shelley  declared  that  Keats'  agitation  over  the  review  ended  in 
the  rupture  of  a  blood  vessel  in  the  lungs  with  an  ensuing  rapid 
consumption.  These  statements,  which  Shelley  must  have  had 
indirectly,  have  not  been  substantiated.  We  are  forced  to  the 
conclusion  now  generally  accepted — that  Keats,  although  sensi- 
tive to  personal  ridicule,  was  superior  to  the  stings  of  re- 
view criticism  and  that  the  distressing  events  of  the  last  year  of 
his  life  were  sufficient  to  assure  the  early  triumph  of  the  inherent 
and  unconquerable  disease. 

141.  Miss    Baillie.     Joanna     Baillie     (1762-1851)     authoress     of 

numerous  forgotten  plays  and  poems  which  enjoyed  great 
popularity  in  their  day. 

142.  Land  of  Cockaigne.     Here  means  London,  and  refers  speci- 

fically to  the  Cockney  poets.  An  old  French  poem  on  the 
Land  of  Cockaigne  described  it  as  an  ideal  land  of  luxury 
and  ease.  The  best  authorities  do  not  accept  Cockney  as 
a  derivative  form.  The  Cockney  School  was  composed  of 
Londoners  of  the  middle-class,  supposedly  ill-bred  and  im- 
perfectly educated.  The  critics  took  special  delight  in 
dwelling  upon  the  humble  origin  of  the  Cockneys,  their 
lack  of  university  training,  and  especially  their  dependence 
on  translations  for  their  knowledge  of  the  classics. 

142.  When  Leigh  Hunt  left  prison.  Hunt  had  been  imprisoned 
for  libel  on  the  Prince  Regent   (1812). 

146.  Vauxhall.  The  Gardens  were  a  favorite  resort  for  Lon- 
doners early  in  the  eighteenth  century  and  remained  popu- 
lar for  a  long  time.  See  Thackeray's  Vanity  Fair  (chap. 
VI).  The  implication  in  the  present  passage  is  that  the 
Cockney  poet  gets  his  ideas  of  nature  from  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  London. 


2i8  NOTES 

147.  East  of  Temple-bar.    That  is,  living  in  the  City  of  London. 
150.  Young  Sangrado.     An  allusion  to  Doctor  Sangrado,  in  Le 
Sage's  Gil  Bias  (1715). 

Alfred  Lord  Tennyson 

Tennyson's  first  poetical  efforts,  which  appeared  in  Poems  by 
Two  Brothers  (1827)  attracted  little  critical  attention.  His 
prize-poem,  Timbuctoo  (1829)  received  the  interesting  notice  here 
reprinted  from  the  AthencEum  (p.  456)  of  July  22,  1829.  Tim- 
buctoo was  printed  in  the  Cambridge  Chronicle  (July  10,  1829)  ; 
in  the  Prolusiones  Academics  (1829)  ;  and  several  times  in 
Cambridge  Prize-Poems.  The  use  of  heroic  metre  in  prize-poems 
was  traditional ;  hence  the  award  was  an  enviable  tribute  to  the 
blank-verse  of  Timbuctoo. 

Tennyson's  success  was  emphasized  by  the  remarkable  series  of 
reviews  that  greeted  his  earliest  volumes  of  poems.  The  Poems, 
chieUy  Lyrical  (1830)  were  welcomed  by  Sir  John  Bowring  in 
the  Westminster  Review,  by  Leigh  Hunt  in  the  Tatler,  by  Arthur 
Hallam  in  the  Englishman's  Magazine,  and  by  John  Wilson  in 
Blackzvood's  Magazine.  The  Poems  (1833)  were  reviewed  by 
W.  J.  Fox  in  the  Monthly  Repository,  and  by  John  Stuart  Mill 
in  the  Westminster  Review.  This  array  of  names  was  indeed  a 
tribute  to  the  poet;  but  the  unfavorable  review,  was,  as  usual, 
most  significant.  The  article  written  by  Lockhart  for  the  Quar- 
terly Rev.,  XLIX  (81-97),  has  been  characterized  as  "silly  and 
brutal,"  but  it  was  neither.  Tennyson's  fame  is  secure;  we  can 
at  least  be  just  to  his  early  reviewer.  It  is  true  that  the  poet 
winced  under  the  lash  and  that  ten  years  elapsed  before  his  next 
volume  of  collected  poems  appeared;  but  Canon  Ainger  is  surely 
in  error  when  he  holds  the  Quarterly  Review  mainly  responsible 
for  this  long  silence.  The  rich  measure  of  praise  elsewhere  be- 
stowed upon  the  volume  would  leave  us  no  alternative  but  the 
conclusion  that  Tennyson  was  childish  enough  to  maintain  his 
silence  for  a  decade  because  Lockhart  took  liberties  with  his 
poems  instead  of  joining  the  chorus  of  adulation.  We  know 
that  there  were  other  and  stronger  reasons  for  Tennyson's 
silence  and  we  also  know  that  the  effect  of  Lockhart's  article  was 
decidedly  salutary.  When  the  next  collection  of  Poems  (1842) 
did  appear,  the  shorter  pieces  ridiculed  by  Lockhart  were  omitted, 
and  the  derided  passages  in  the  longer  poems  were  altered. 


NOTES    *  219 

We  may,  without  conscientious  scruples,  take  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang's  advice,  and  enjoy  a  laugh  over  Lockhart's  performance.  Its 
mock  appreciations  are,  perhaps,  far-fetched  at  times ;  but  there  are 
enough  effective  passages  to  give  zest  to  the  article.  It  has  been 
said  in  all  seriousness  that  Lockhart  failed  to  appreciate  the  beauty 
of  most  of  Tennyson's  lines,  and  that  he  confined  his  remarks  to 
the  most  assailable  passages.  Surely,  when  a  critic  undertakes  to 
write  a  mock-appreciation,  he  will  not  quote  the  best  verses,  to  the 
detriment  of  his  plan.  The  poet  must  see  to  it  that  his  volume 
does  not  contain  enough  absurdities  to  form  a  sufficient  basis  for 
such  an  article.  There  is  a  striking  contrast  to  the  humor  of 
Lockhart  in  the  little-known  review  of  the  same  volume  by  the 
Literary  Gazette,  1833,  pp.  (772-774).  The  latter  seized  upon 
some  crudities  that  had  escaped  the  Quarterly's  notice,  and,  with 
characteristic  brutality,  decided  that  the  poet  was  insane  and 
needed  a  low  diet  and  a  cell. 

Although  the  reception  accorded  to  Poems  (1842)  was  generally 
favorable,  the  publication  of  The  Princess  in  1847  afforded  the 
critics  another  opportunity  to  lament  Tennyson's  inequalities. 
The  spirit  of  the  review  of  The  Princess  here  reprinted  from  the 
Literary  Gazette  of  August  8,  1848,  is  practically  identical  with 
that  of  the  AthencEiim  on  January  6,  1848,  but  specifies  more 
clearly  the  critic's  objections  to  the  medley.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  Lord  Tennyson  made  extensive  changes  in  subsequent  edi- 
tions of  The  Princess,  but  left  unaltered  all  of  the  passages  to 
which  the  Literary  Gazette  took  exception.  The  beautiful 
threnody  In  Memoriam  (1850)  and  Tennyson's  elevation  to  the 
laureateship  in  the  same  year  established  his  position  as  the  lead- 
ing poet  of  the  time;  but  the  appearance  of  Maud  in  1856 
proved  to  be  a  temporary  check  to  his  popularity.  A  few  per- 
sonal friends  admired  it  and  praised  its  fine  lyrics ;  but  as  a 
dramatic  narrative  it  failed  to  please  the  reviews.  The  most 
interesting  of  the  critiques  (unfortunately  too  long  to  be  re- 
printed here)  appeared  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  XLI  (311-321), 
of  September,  1855, — a  forcible,  well-written  article,  which,  in- 
cidentally, shows  how  much  the  magazine  had  improved  in  re- 
spectability since  the  days  of  the  lampooners  of  Byron,  Shelley, 
and  Keats.  The  authorship  of  the  article  has  not  been  disclosed, 
but  we  know  that  W.  E.  Aytoun  asked  permission  of  the  pro- 
prietor to  review  Tennyson's  Maud.  (See  Mrs.  Oliphant's 
William  Blackwood  and  his  Sons.)     The  publication  of  the  Idylls 


2  20  NOTES 

of  the  King  (1859),  turned  the  tide  more  strongly  than  before 

in  Tennyson's  favor,  and  subsequent  fault-finding  on  the  part  of 

the  critics  was  confined  largely  to  his  dramas. 

153-  Catullus.  See  Catullus,  II  and  III — {Passer,  delicice  mecs 
puellce,  and  Lugete,  O  Veneres  Cupidinesque) . 

153.  Wide  Ivpri,  K.  r.  1.  Usually  found  in  the  remains  of  Alcseus. 
Thomas  Moore  translates  it  with  his  Odes  of  Anacreon 
(LXXVII),  beginning  "  Would  that  I  were  a  tuneful  lyre," 
etc.  Lockhart  proceeds  to  ridicule  Tennyson  for  wishing  to 
be  a  river,  which  is  not  what  the  quoted  lines  state.  Nor 
does  Tennyson  "  ambition  a  bolder  metamorphosis "  than 
his  predecessors.  Anacreon  (Ode  XXII)  wishes  to  be  a 
stream,  as  well  as  a  mirror,  a  robe,  a  pair  of  sandals  and 
sundry  other  articles.     See  Moore's  interesting  note. 

155.  Non  omnis  moriar.     Horace,  Odes,  III,  30,  6. 

156.  Tongues  in  trees,  etc.     Shakespeare's  As  Yon  Like  It,  II, 

I,  17. 

157.  Aristwiis.     A  minor  Grecian  divinity,  worshipped  as  the  first 

to  introduce  the  culture  of  bees. 

164.  Dionysius  Periegetes.  Author  of  TTEpifjyTiciq  ryg  y^g,  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  earth  in  hexameters,  usually  published  with  the 
scholia  of  Eustathius  and  the  Latin  paraphrases  of  Avienus 
and  Priscian.  For  the  account  of  Ethiopia,  see  also 
Pausanias,  I,  33,  4. 

167.  The  Rovers.  The  Rovers  was  a  parody  on  the  German 
drama  of  the  day,  published  in  the  Anti-Jacobin  (1798) 
and  written  by  Frere,  Canning  and  others.  It  is  reprinted 
in  Charles  Edmund's  Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin.  The 
chorus  of  conspirators  is  at  the  end  of  Act  IV. 

169.  The  Groves  of  Blarney.    An  old  Irish  song.    A  version  may 

be  seen  in  the  Antiquary,  I,  p.  199.  The  quotation  by 
Lockhart  differs  somewhat  from  the  corresponding  stanza 
of  the  cited  version. 

170.  Corporal  Trim.     In  Sterne's  Tristram  Shandy. 

173.  Christopher  North.    John  Wilson,  of  Blackwood's  Magazine. 

Robert  Browning 

The  reviews  of  Browning's  poems  are  singularly  uninteresting 

from  a  historical  standpoint.     There  is  usually  a  protest  against 

the  obscurity  of  the  poetry  and  a  plea  that  the  author  should 

make  better  use  of  his  manifest  genius.     For  details  concerning 


NOTES  22  1 

these  reviews,  see  the  bibliography  of  Browning  in  Nicoll  and 
Wise's  Literary  Anecdotes  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.  The  Hst 
there  given  is  extensive,  but  does  not  inchide  several  of  the  re- 
views mentioned  below. 

The  early  poems  were  so  abstruse  that  the  critics  were  unable 
to  make  sport  of  them  as  they  did  in  the  case  of  Wordsworth, 
Byron,  Tennyson,  and  the  rest;  and  when  Browning  finally 
deigned  to  write  within  range  of  the  average  human  intellect,  that 
particular  style  of  reviewing  had  lost  favor.  His  earliest  publica- 
tion, Pauline  (1832)  was  well  received  by  W.  J.  Fox  in  Monthly 
Repository,  and  in  the  AthencBum.  Tail's  Edinburgh  Magazine 
called  it  a  "piece  of  pure  bewilderment."  See  also  the  brief 
notice  in  the  Literary  Gazette,  1833,  p.  183.  Paracelsus  (1835) 
had  a  similar  experience;  the  reprint  from  the  Athenaum,  1835, 
p.  640,  is  fairly  characteristic  of  the  rest,  among  which  are  the 
articles  in  the  Monthly  Repository,  1835,  p.  716;  the  Christian 
Remembrancer,  XX,  p.  346,  and  the  reviews  written  by  John 
Forster  for  the  Examiner,  1835,  p.  563,  and  the  New  Monthly 
Magazine,  XLVI  (289-308). 

Neither  the  favorable  review  of  Sordello  (1840)  in  the 
Monthly  Rev.,  1840,  II,  p.  149,  nor  the  partly  appreciative  article 
in  the  Athenaiim,  1840,  p.  431,  seems  to  warrant  the  well-known 
anecdotes  relating  the  difficulties  of  Douglas  Jerrold  and  Tenny- 
son in  attempting  to  understand  that  poem.  The  Athenaum  gave 
the  poet  sound  advice,  especially  in  regard  to  the  intentional 
obscurity  of  his  meaning.  That  this  admonition  was  futile 
may  be  gathered  from  the  Saturday  Reviezv's  article  (I,  p.  69) 
on  Men  and  Women  (1855)  published  fifteen  years  after  Sordello. 
The  critic  reverted  to  the  earlier  style,  and  produced  one  of  the 
most  readable  reviews  of  Browning.  Whatever  may  be  the  final 
verdict  yet  to  be  passed  upon  Browning's  poetic  achievement,  the 
fact  remains  that  the  contemporary  reviews  from  first  to  last  de- 
plored in  his  work  a  deliberate  obscurity  which  was  wholly  un- 
warranted and  which  precluded  the  universal  appeal  that  is 
essential  to  a  poet's  greatness. 

189.  Delia  Crusca  of  Sentinientalism.  Robert  Merry  (i7S5~i798) 
under  the  name  Delia  Crusca  became  the  leader  of  a  set 
of  poetasters  who  flourished  during  the  poetic  dearth  at  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  poured  forth  their 
rubbish  until  William  Giflford  exposed  their  follies  in  his 
satires  The  Baviad  (i794)  and  The  Ma:viad  (i795). 


222  NOTES 

189.  Alexander  Smith.     A  Scotch  poet   (1830-1867). 

189.  Mystic  of  Bailey.  Philip  James  Bailey  (1816-1902),  best 
known  as  the  author  of  Festus,  published  The  Mystic  in 
185s. 

192.  Hudibras  Butler,  etc.  Samuel  Butler,  author  of  Hudibras 
(1663-78)  ;  Richard  H.  Barham,  author  of  the  Ingoldsby 
Legends  (1840)  ;  and  Thomas  Hood,  author  of  Whims 
and  Oddities  (1826-27).  These  poets  are  cited  by  the  re- 
viewer for  their  skill  with  unusual  metres  and  difficult 
rhymes. 


INDEX 


Academy,  xlii-xliii 

Account     of    English    Dramatic 

Poets,  XV 
Adonais,    by    Shelley,    reviewed, 

129-134 ;  214,  217 
Advice  to  Young  Reviewer,  xxiii 
Ainsworth,  Harrison,  xlv 
Akenside,  Mark,  xvi 
Alastor,  by  Shelley,  reviewed,  115 
Album  Verses,  by  Lamb,  review-- 

ed,  66-67 
Alford,  Dean,  xxxv 
Allingham,  William,  1 
All  the   Year  Round,  1 
Analytical  Review,  xxii 
Anti-Jacobin  Review,  xxiii 
Appleton,  Dr.  Charles,  xlii 
Arber,  Prof.  Edward,  xiii 
Arnold,    Matthew,    xxxii,    xxxvi, 

xlii 
Athenceum,    xxxviii-xl,    liv ;    on 

Tennyson's  Timbuctoo,  151 ; 

on     Browning's    Paracelsus, 

187 
Athenian  Mercury,  xiv 
Atlas,  xl 
Austin,  Mr.  Alfred,  xxxvi 

Bagehot,  Walter,  xxxii,  xxxiv 
Barrow,  Sir  John,  xxviii 
Battle  of  the  Reviews,  xx-xxi 
Bayle,  Pierre,  xiii 
Bee,  xvi 

Behn,  Mrs.  Aphra,  xv 
Beloe,  William,  xxiii 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  xxxi 
Bentley's  Miscellany,  1 
Bibliography,  Ivi-lix 
Bibliotheca  Literaria,  xvi 
Bibliothbque    Ancienne    et   Mod- 
erne,  xvi 
Bibliothtque  Angloise,  xv 
Bibliotheque  Choisee,  xvi 

223 


Blackwood,  John,  xlvii 
Blackwood,  William,  xlv 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  xlv-xlvii ; 

on    Keats'    Endymion,    141- 

150;  216 
Blank  Verse,  by  Lamb  and  Lloyd, 

reviewed,   65 
Blount,  Sir  Thomas  Pope,  xiv 
Bookman,  xxxvii 
Bower,  Archibald,  xvi 
British  and  Foreign  Review,  xxxii 
British  Critic,  xxiii ;  on  Lander's 

Gebir,  68 
British  Librarian,  xvi 
British  Magazine,  xxii,  xlv 
British  Review,  xxxii,  213 
Brougham,    Henry,    xxiv,    xxvi- 

xxvii,  XXX,  210 
Browning,      Robert,      Paracelsus 

rev.  in  Athenaeum,  187  ;  Sor- 

dello   rev.   in  Monthly  Rev., 

188 ;  Men  and   Women  rev. 

in   Saturday   Rev.,   189-196 ; 

220-222 
Buckingham,  James  Silk,  xxxviii 
Budgell,  Eustace,  xvi 
Bulwer,  Edward,  xxx,  xlv 
Bunting,  Mr.  Percy,  xxxvi 
Burns,    Robert,    Poems    rev.    in 

Edinburgh   Mag.,    13-14;    in 

Critical  Rev.,  15;   199-200 
Byron,   Lord,   47,   48 ;   Hours   of 

Idleness    rev.    in    Edinburgh 

Rev.,  94-1 00  ;  Childe  Harold 

rev.    in    Christian   Observer, 

101-114 ;  210-213 

Campbell,  Thomas,  xlv 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  xxx,  xlv,  xlix 
Cave,  Edward,  xliv 
Cenci,  by  Shelley,  reviewed,  116- 

128,  214 
Censura  Celcbrium  Authorum,  xiv 


224 


INDEX 


Censure  Temporum,  xv 

Childe  Harold,  by  Byron,  review- 
ed, 101-114;  212-213 

Christabel,  by  Coleridge,  review- 
ed, 47-59 

Christian  Observer,  xxxiii ;  on 
Byron's  Childe  Harold,  loi- 

114 
Christian  Remembrancer,  xxxii 
Christie,  Jonathan  Henry,  xlviii 
Cleghorn,  James,  xlvi 
Cobbett,  William,  xxxvii 
Cockney      School,      Blackwood's 

Mag.  on,  141-150  ;  216-217 
Colburn,  Henry,  xxxvii,  xlv 
Coleridge,  John  Taylor,  xxix 
Coleridge,    Samuel   Taylor,   xlvi ; 
Christabel  rev.  in  Edinburgh 
Rev.,  47-59 ;   201-202,   204- 
206 
Collins,  Mr.  John  Churton,  li 
Colvin,  Mr.  Sidney,  xlii,  liv 
Compleat  Library,  xiv 
Conder,  Josiah,  xxxii 
Contemporary  Review,  xxxv 
Cook,  John  D.,  xli 
Copleston,  Edward,  xxiii 
Cornhill  Magazine,  1 
Cotton,  Mr.  James  S.,  xliii 
Courthope,  Mr.  W.  J.,  xxxvi 
Courtney,  Mr.  W.  L.,  xxxv 
Cowper,  William,  Poems  rev.  in 
Critical  Rev.,  10-12;  198-199 
Critic,  xxxvii 

Critical  Review,  xviii-xxi,  xxiii, 
XXV,  xxxiii ;  on  Goldsmith's 
Traveller,  5-9 ;  on  Cowper's 
Poems,  10-12 ;  on  Burn's 
Poems,  15  ;  on  Lyrical  Bal- 
lads, 20-23 
Croker,  John  Wilson,  xxviii 

Dennis,  John,  xv 
DeQuincey,  Thomas,  xlvfii 
De  Re  Poetica,  xiv 
Descriptive  Sketches,  by  Words- 
worth, reviewed,  16-18 
Dickens,  Charles,  1,  liv 
Dilke,   Charles   W.,  xxxix 
Dixon,  William  H.,  xxxix 
Doble,  Mr.  C.  E.,  xliii 


Dowden,  Prof.  Edward,  xxxiv 

Dublin  Review,  xxxii 

Dublin  University  Magazine,  1 

D'Urfey,  Thomas,  xv 

Eclectic  Review,  xxxii 

Edin  burgh  Magazine,  xliv ;  on 
Burns'  Poems,  13-14 

Edinburgh  Review,  xxiv-xxvii, 
xxix-xxxi,  xlvi,  liv ;  on 
Wordsworth's  Poems,  24-46 ; 
on  Coleridge's  Christabel, 
47-59  ;  on  Scott's  Marmion, 
70-93  ;  on  Byron's  Hours  of 
Idleness,  94-100;  209-211 

Eliot,  George,  xxxiv,  xlvii 

Elliott,  Hon.  A.  R.  D.,  xxxi 

Elwin,  Whitwell,  xxix 

Empson,  William,  xxx 

Endymion,  by  Keats,  rev.  in  Quar- 
terly Rev.,  135-140;  rev.  in 
Blackwood's  Mag.,  141-150; 
215-218 

English  Review,  xxii,  xxxii 

Escott,  Mr.  T.  H.  S.,  xxxv 

Evening  Walk,  by  Wordsworth, 
reviewed,  19 

Examiner,  xxxvii 

Fonblanque,  Albany,  xxxvii 
Foreign  Quarterly  Review,  xxxii 
Foreign  Review,  xxxii 
Forster,  John,  xxxvii 
Fortnightly  Review,  xxxiii-xxxv" 
Fox,  W.  J.,  xxxiii 
Eraser's  Magazine,  xlix-1 
Froude,  James  A.,  1 

Gebir,  by  Landor,  rev.  in  British 

Critic,  68  ;  rev.   in  Monthly 

Rev.,  69  ;  208 
Gentleman's  Journal,  xv,  xliv 
Gentleman's  Magazine,  xv,  xliv 
Gifford,  William,  xxvii,  xxviii 
Goldsmith,     Oliver,     xviii,     xxi, 

xxii,  xlv ;  The  Traveller  rev. 

in    Critical    Rev.,    5-9,    197, 

198 
Grant,   Charles,   108 
Gray,     Thomas,     Odes     rev.     in 

Monthly  Rev.,  1-4;  197-198 


INDEX 


225 


Green,  John  Richards,  xxiii 
Griffiths,  Ralph,  xvii,  xviii,  xx 

Hallam,  Henry,  xxx 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  xxx 

Harris,  Mr.  Frank,  xxxv,  xli 

Harwood,   Mr.   Philip,  xli 

Hazlitt,  William,  204-205 

Hervey,  Thomas  K.,  xxxix 

Hind,  Mr.  C.  Lewis,  xliii 

Historia  Literaria,  xvi 

History  of  Learning,  xiv 

History  of  the  Works  of  the 
Learned,  xv,  xvi 

Hodge,  Mr.  Harold,  xli 

Hood,  Thomas,  xlviii 

Hook,  Theodore,  xlv 

Home,  Richard  Hengist,  xxxiii 

Horner,  Francis,  xxiv,  xxv 

Hours  of  Idleness,  by  Byron,  re- 
viewed, 94-100 ;  210-212 

Household  Words,  1 

Hume,  David,  105 

Hunt,  Leigh,  xxxiii,  xxxvii,  135, 
136,  142 

Button,   Richard  Holt,  xxxii,  xl 

Introduction,  xiii-lv 

Jebb,  Samuel,  xvi 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  xxiv-xxvi,  xxix, 

xlviii,  203,  206,  209-210 
Jerdan,  William,  xxxvii,  xxxix 
Johnson,  Samuel,  xxi,  xxii,  198 
Journal  des  Savans,  xiii,  xiv,  xxi 

Keats,  John,  Endymion,  reviewed 
in  Quarterly  Rev.,  135-140  ; 
in  Blackwood's  Mag.,  141- 
150;  '152,  215-218 

Kenrick,  William,  xx,  xxi,  xxii 

Kingsley,  Charles,  1 

Knowles,  Mr.  James,  xxxv,  xxxvi 

Lamb,  Charles,  xlviii ;  Blank 
Verse  rev.  in  Monthly  Rev., 
65 ;  Album-Verses  rev.  in 
Literary  Gazette,  66-67 ; 
207-208 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  Gebir 
rev.  in  British  Critic,  68 ; 
in  Monthly  Rev.,  69 ;  208 

18 


Langbaine,  Gerald,  xv 
Le  Clerc,  Daniel,  xvi 
Le  Clerc,  Jean,  xiv,  xvi 
Lewes,  George  Henry,  xxxiv 
Lewis,  Sir  George  Cornewall,  xxx 
Literary  Chronicle,  xxxviii 
Literary   Gazette,   xxxvii-xxxix ; 
on     Lamb's     Album-Verses, 
66-67  ;  on  Shelley's  Adonais, 
129-134;  on  Tennyson's  The 
Princess,  176-186;  207-208 
Literary  Journal,  xvi 
Literary  Magazine,  xvi,  xxii 
Lloyd,  Charles,  Blank  Verse,  rev. 

in  Monthly  Rev.,  65 
Lloyd,  H.  E.,  xxxvii 
Lockhart,     John     Gibson,     xxii, 

xxxi,  216,  218-219 
London    Magazine,    xliv,    xlvii- 
xlviii ;    on    Shelley's    Cenci, 
116-128 
London  Quarterly  Review,  xxxii 
London  Review,  xxii,  xxxi 
Longman's  Magazine,  1 
Lowth,  Bishop,  xvi 
Lyrical  Ballads,  by  Wordsworth, 
reviewed,  20-23  ;  201-203 

Macaulay,     Thomas     Babington, 

xxix-xxx 
MacColl,  Mr.  Norman,  xxxix 
Maclise,  Daniel,  xlix 
Macmillan's  Magazine,  1 
Macpherson,  William,  xxix 
Madoc,    by    Southey,    reviewed, 

60-64 ;   206-207 
Marmion,    by     Scott,     reviewed, 

70-93  ;  208-210 
Martin,  Sir  Theodore,  I 
Martineau,  James,  xxxii 
Maty,  Paul  Henry,  xxii 
Maurice,  Frederick  D.,  xxxviii 
Maxse,  Mr.  Louis  J.,  xxxvi 
Melbourne,  Lord,  xxx 
Memoirs  for  the  Ingenious,  xiv 
Memoirs  of  Literature,  xv 
Memoires  Litteraires,  xv 
Men  and   Women,  by  Browning, 

reviewed  189-196,  221 
Mercurius  Librariits,  xiii 
Meredith,  Mr.  George,  xxxiv 


226 


INDEX 


Metropolitan,  1 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  xxx,  xxxi 

Minto,  William,  xxxvii 

Miscellaneous  Letters,  xiv 

Monthly  Censor,  xxxiii 

Monthly  Chronicle,  xxxiii 

Monthly  Magazine,  xlv 

Monthly  Miscellany,  xv 

Monthly  Repository,  xxxiii 

Monthly  Review,  xvii-xxi,  xxv, 
xxxiii ;  on  Gray's  Odes,  1-4  ; 
on  Wordsworth's  Descrip- 
tive Sketches,  16-18;  on 
Wordsworth's  Evening  Walk, 
19 ;  on  Southey's  Madoc, 
60-64 ;  on  Lamb's  Blank 
Verse,  65  ;  on  Landor's 
Gebir,  69 ;  on  Shelley's 
Alastor,  115;  on  Browning's 
Sordello,  188 

Moore,  Thomas,  xlviii 

Morley,  Mr.  John,  xxxiv 

Motteux,  Peter  Anthony,  xv,  xliv 

Moxon,  Edward,  207 

Murray,  John,  xxvii 

Museum,  xvi 

Napier,  Macvey,  xxix 
Nares,  Robert,  xxxiii 
National  Review   (guar.),  xxxii; 

(mon.),  xxxvi 
New  Memoirs  of  Literature,  xvi 
New  Monthly  Magazine,  xxxvii, 

xlv 
New  Review,  xxii 
Nicolas,  Sir  N.  H.,  xxxii 
Nineteenth  Century,  xxxvi 
North  British  Review,  xxxii 
Notivelles   de   la  Republique   des 

Lettres,  xiii 

Oldys,  William,  xvi 

Oliphant,  Mrs.  M.  O.  W.,  xlvii 

Paracelsus,     by     Browning,     re- 
viewed, 187 
Parkes,  Samuel,  xiv 
Pater,  Walter,  xHi,  xliii 
Phillips,  Sir  Richard,  xlv 
Phillips,   Mr.    Stephen,  liv 
Pollock,  Mr.  W.  H.,  xli 


Porcupine's  Gazette,  xxxvii 

Pratt,  Josiah,  xxxiii 

Present  State  of  the  Republic  of 

Letters,  xvi 
Princess,  by  Tennyson,  reviewed, 

176-186 
Pringle,  Thomas,  xlvi 
Prothero,  Mr.  George,  xxix 
Prothero,  Mr.  Rowland,  xxix 

Quarterly  Review,  xxvii-xxix, 
liv ;  on  Keats'  Endymion, 
135-140;  on  Tennyson's 
Poems,  152-175;  215-217 

Quarterly  Theological  Review, 
xxiii 

Quintilian,  107 

Reeve,  Henry,  xxx 
Reid,    Andrew,   xvi 
Rendall,  Mr.  Vernon,  xxxix 
Retrospective  Review,  xxxii 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  xxxiii 
Ridpath,  George,  xv 
Rintoul,  Robert  S.,  xl 
Roche,  M.  de  la,  xv,  xvi 
Roscoe,  Mr.  E.  S.,  xxxi 
Roscoe,  William  C.,  xxxii 
Ross,  Miss,  xxxvii 
Royal  Magazine,  xliv 
Russell,  Lord  John,  xxx 

Salisbury,  Lord,  xli 

Sallo,  Denis  de,  xiii 

Saturday  Review,  xli,  liv ;  on 
Browning's  Men  and  Wo- 
men, 189-196 

Scots  Magazine,  xliv 

Scott,  John,  xlvii 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  xxvii ;  Mar- 
mion  rev.  in  Edinburgh  Rev., 
70-93  ;  208-210 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe,  Alastor 
rev.  in  Monthly  Rev.,  115; 
Cenci  rev.  in  London  Mag., 
1 16-128;  Adonais  rev.  in 
Literary  Gazette,  129-134, 
213-215 

Shore,  Mr.  W.  Teignmouth,  xliii 

Smith,  Sydney,  xxiv,  xxvi 

Smith,  Sir  William,  xxix 


INDEX 


227 


Smollett,  Tobias   xviii,  xx,  xlv 
Sordello,  by  Browning,  reviewed, 

188 
Southern,  Henry,  xxxi,  xxxii 
Southey,   Robert,  xxviii ;   Madoc 
rev.    in    Monthly   Rev.,    60- 
64;  109,  202,  206-207 
Spectator,  xl-xli 
Stebbing,  Henry,  xxxviii 
Stephen,  (Sir)  Leslie,  xxxiv 
Sterling,  John,  xxxviii 
Strachey,  Mr.  J.  St.  L.,  xl 
Swinburne,  Mr.  A.  C,  xxxiv,  liv 
Symonds,  J.  A.,  xxxiv 
Symons,  Mr.  Arthur,  liv 

Tait's  Edinburgh  Magazine,  1 

Taylor,  William,  xlv 

Temple  Bar,  1 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  (Lord),  xxxvi ; 
Timbuctoo  rev.  in  Athenceum, 
151  ;  Poems  rev.  in  Quarterly 
Rev.,  152-175;  The  Princess 
rev.  in  Literary  Gazette, 
176-186  ;  218-220 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  xxx,  xlix,  1 

Theatrum  Poetarum,  xv 

Timbuctoo,  by  Tennyson,  review- 
ed, 151 


Townsend,  Meredith,  xl 
Traveller,  by  Goldsmith,  review- 
ed, 5-9 

Universal  Historical  BibliotMque, 

xiv 
Universal  Magazine,  xliv 
Universal  Mercury,  xiv 

Walpole,  Horace,  xvi,  xx 

Warton,  J.  and  T.,  xvi 

Watkins,  Dr.,  xlv 

Watts,  Alaric  A.,  xlv,  xlviii 

Weekly  Memorial,  xiv 

Weekly  Register,  xxxvii 

Westminster  Review,  xxxi-xxxii 

Wilson,  John,  xlvi 

Wordsworth,  William,  Descrip- 
tive Sketches  rev.  in  Monthly 
Rev.,  16-18;  Evening  Walk 
rev.  in  ibid.,  19;  Lyrical 
Ballads  rev.  in  Critical  Rev., 
20-23  ;  Poems  rev.  in  Edin- 
burgh Rev.,  24-46 ;  200-204 

Works  of  the  Learned,  xiv 

Young  Student's  Library,  xiv 


JUN  16  1947 


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